Danse Macabre
by Vaedra Valentine
Summary: A glimpse into a rogue's troubled past and the beginnings of a tumultuous future. The Lich King's campaign continues in Northrend and the dance of death unites all things together... Rated M for the usual: language, violence, sexual situations etc.
1. Prologue

_Greetings readers! This story is going to be a continuation of my first fic, You Are Mine. If you have not read it you may wish to do so in hopes that this makes a little more sense, though you are completely welcome to read this first and try to follow if you like =)_

_I will warn you that this story will be somewhat AU as WoTLK has not yet been resolved in game and also due to events that transpired in my first story, you know, minor things like killing off NPC's and destroying whole factions...heh._

_As usual, all NPC's, names, places, etc. are from Warcraft and belong to Blizzard, I am not writing this for profit, merely enjoyment._

_The rating will be M again in the event of much foul language, goriness and potential naughtiness. You've been warned! This first chapter does contain some disturbing themes, so do not read if that kind of material offends you, please. But enough about that, on with the story. Hope everyone enjoys._

Prologue

"Ooo, that tickles!" She giggled in between squirms.

"Well, that's not very much incentive for me to stop, now is it, love?" Tayvan smiled down at the young woman, his large hands sliding beneath clothing looking for skin.

"Ahh, why not?" Vaedra tried to cover her mouth and slap his hand away simultaneously. "Do you want someone to hear us?"

"Of course not!" The night elf admonished, seizing both slender wrists between his fingers and continuing his unabashed assault. "But you need to practice keeping quiet, don't you?"

"I don't need practice!" She cried, the end of the last word upturning in a squeal.

"Obviously." He chuckled lowly, hands finding their way down the waistband of her pants. "You see, this way if we are discovered I can truthfully declare that we were using the room for training."

The chamber was indeed an exercise facility, targets and dummies lay about the room in disarray, weapons fully lined two of the walls, but all was quiet save for the the soft murmuring of the two rogues shrouded in shadow in the corner.

Vaedra finally submitted, sighing deeply as she gave in to Tayvan's kisses. The night elf had come to Stormwind barely a year before after the end of the Third War, swiftly gaining the notice of the Stormwind Assassins and rising among their ranks for his skill and subtlety with both his blades and words. He had taken note of Vaedra, a young and aspiring Assassin herself, shortly thereafter aiding in her training and becoming much more than that as well.

Still a teenager, Vaedra had quickly become enamored with the charming night elf and despite her desire to focus primarily on her studies and become a higher-ranking rogue she knew now that she had fallen foolishly and recklessly in love with him. But she couldn't remember ever being happier, finally feeling as though she had a place in the world and a sense of belonging.

Tayvan grinned against the girl's mouth as he began to deftly untie the laces of her clothes, amused at the ease in which he had seduced her. Humans were such a young race, often hasty and overeager to live out their short lives to the fullest extent filling them with an overabundance of excitement and arbitrary loyalties in an attempt to make it seem like it was more meaningful. Vaedra was certainly talented and sweet, though terribly lonely and obviously inexperienced in the ways of relationships as was to be expected. But she suited his needs for now, and he suspected soon enough she would be yet another brief memory of the many that had made up his past thousands of years of life.

When Vaedra realized she was being undressed she gasped and pushed the night elf away. "What if we're caught? What if Master Shaw finds out?"

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

A new voice entered the chamber, surprising both of it's existing occupants, heads turning to peer through the darkness at the arrival. Of course they hadn't heard him enter in a building full of rogues...

Mathias Shaw stood in the doorway with his arms across his chest and an eyebrow raised at the two lovers. Vaedra blushed furiously and scrambled to straighten her clothes while Tayvan merely shoved his hands into his pockets and smirked smugly.

The man had dark hair and intense brown eyes and though his slight stature didn't exactly cut an imposing figure any that dare underestimate the newly appointed leader of the Stormwind Assassins could quickly find themselves missing vital appendages. He stood just barely taller than Vaedra's average height, lithe and muscular with finely trimmed facial hair and lips that were often curved into a quirky smile.

Right then though, his mouth was set in a hard line as he observed the pair with a critical eye. Without another word and sighing deeply, Mathias crooked his finger indicating that they should follow.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and attempting to smooth the wrinkles from her shirt, Vaedra followed him out keeping her eyes glued to the floor in an effort to hide her embarrassment.

The two rogues trailed Mathias to his office within SI:7. Leadership of the organization had recently been handed over to him by his grandmother, Pathonia Shaw, after years of training by her hand to become one of the very best assassins. The transition had been seamless as he had been so well-prepared, and in the months that followed he had attempted to further perfect the already well-ordered establishment only to find that it was already rather flawless in design.

He settled behind his desk with his hands folded, watching intently as the pair stood before him, Vaedra looking decidedly more uncomfortable then her night elf counterpart.

Mathias cleared his throat and began speaking, "Vaedra, I-"

"I'm sorry, Master Shaw!" She suddenly blurted out with youthful impetuousness, worrying that she was in a great deal of trouble. "I didn't mean for us to be seen... erm, what I mean is we shouldn't have been there in the first place and well I didn't know..."

Mathias held up one hand, smiling a bit to himself as her words came tumbling out. "It's all right Vaedra, calm down. That's not what this is about."

The rogue quickly closed her mouth, pale skin flushed red all over again. Mathias was her mentor but often felt like an older brother to her; him finding them in that situation had been mortifying and something Vaedra couldn't easily forget.

"Your recent work as a Third Finger has been impeccable. Your skills for gathering information and diversionary tactics have improved remarkably and I feel that you are almost ready for the next step." Mathias gave a slight nod in appreciation, a small sign of praise.

"I have one more task for you, however, before you can be promoted to a Second Finger Assassin. Recently several shipments of grain and goods have been ambushed coming out of Westfall, caravans on their way to Stormwind. If it had been an isolated incident we may not have paid much attention, but now that these attacks are occurring more frequently we're worried that perhaps it isn't just a lone band of scoundrels out to make easy coin but perhaps a more organized group striking out for a reason. I need you to find out who they are and track them down, discover who they're working for and what their motives are."

Vaedra tried to put on a serious face to hide her obvious excitement at both the importance of her task and the potential advancement to the next tier of Assassin; she nodded stoically. "Of course, you can count on me."

Mathias gave her a stern look before continuing. "This is strictly an information-gathering mission. You are not to engage them in any way and ensure however possible to keep your presence hidden. Is that understood? Though you may just be observing and looking for clues there is still a high degree of danger involved. The caravans have been left in... poor shape, to say the least." His lips were set in a grim line.

She nodded again, more fervently. "Absolutely. They'll never even know I'm there."

The elder rogue smiled again. "I know, and I trust you, but I'm still going to insist that Tayvan accompany you on this mission. He will see to it that you stay safe."

Vaedra's mouth fell open, protesting indignantly. "But Master Shaw! I know I can do this alone. I need to prove myself effectively in order to move up to the next tier!"

Mathias shook his head; he had known she would argue on this point. "No doubt. But I am taking this precaution nonetheless. Tayvan's presence will not lessen any prestige you will gain if and when you are successful."

"But-"

"No."

Vaedra visibly pouted before she realized how childish she must have looked and covered it up.

Tayvan took the silence as an opportunity to move away from that point of the mission and find out more information.

"Has the Westbrook Garrison been at all successful in stopping any of these attacks? Or finding a pattern?"

"No," Mathias began, pleased for the change of subject. "The frequency and location have been erratic thus far, and they have few men to spare to patrol the roads constantly. It seems whomever has been attacking knows their movements and are able to circumvent them."

Tayvan thought a moment, tapping his chin. "When was the last ambush?"

"Four nights ago."

The night elf nodded, glancing over at Vaedra who stood straight trying to cover her sulking. "I'll take care of her." He promised quietly, earning a dismissive nod from Mathias.

After Tayvan departed, the elder rogue rose and came to put a hand on the girl's shoulder. He had taken Vaedra under his wing at a very early age and though he may have felt over-protective of her his caution for the mission was still well within the acceptable range.

"There will be plenty of solo tasks for you yet to come, have no doubt. You have shown great potential and promise, but for now I suggest you take advantage of your companion's experience and skill while it is available. You can do that for me, can't you?" Mathias flashed her a disarming grin.

Vaedra's resolve to stay annoyed wavered under that look; she returned his smile with a small one of her own.

"Good girl." He began leading her to the door. "Oh, and dear, next time you might want to wait until you get home rather than using the training room..."

Vaedra's smile turned into a look of horror as what he said registered. Ears turning pink and teeth biting into her lower lip, she quickly nodded and fled from the room.

-

"So, where shall we start looking?" Vaedra asked enthusiastically, her previous irritation gone and replaced with alacrity once the two rogues had departed the city and begun their search. She truly was glad to have Tayvan along, his knowledge was invaluable and he would certainly help the time pass more quickly when the seemingly endless waiting began.

"I think..." the night elf began as they traveled the road through Elwynn Forest to the west, "... that we might not have to do any looking at all."

Vaedra's face twisted in confusion. "But aren't we supposed to be finding out who they are? Surely they have a base of operations somewhere..."

"Yes," Tayvan agreed. "But we could spend months searching Westfall trying to find out where that is. Instead I think we may be better off letting them lead us straight there."

She began to understand. "You're saying we should let then attack another caravan and then follow them back to wherever it is they're holed up?"

Tayvan nodded.

Vaedra could definitely see the logic in the plan. "That would eliminate the need to wander Westfall aimlessly and probably keep our scrutiny well-hidden." Her brow furrowed after a moment. "But it would also mean that we would have to stand by as the people carrying the shipment were ambushed."

Tayvan shrugged.

"We can't do that," she argued.

"You were instructed to not interfere directly," he reminded her.

"Yes but..." Vaedra's conscience nagged at her. "...how are we supposed to just sit by and watch as the caravan people get slaughtered by bandits?"

The night elf sighed. Humans could be so naive. "You can't interfere for two reasons, love. Firstly, your esteemed Master Shaw would probably not give you the promotion that you desire so much and likely not trust you on any important missions for a good, long while."

Vaedra grimaced but said nothing.

"And secondly, if you were to charge in the moment the caravan was attacked not only would you be destroying the opportunity for the bandits to lead you back to their base but you would also be tipping them off that they were being closely watched, setting them on edge and possibly into hiding."

She felt helpless. "But I don't-"

"Listen," Tayvan quickly interrupted. "Your choices are to forget that plan and begin searching Westfall painfully and slowly, which would mean that the next shipment is going to be attacked and destroyed anyway, you just won't be there to see it, or to be there when it happens and help yourself out so you can move up to the next level of Assassin. Either way those people are already dead, there's nothing you can do about that, love. But you might as well help yourself _and_ stop them quickly at the same time, preventing more caravans from being ambushed in the future. Right?"

Vaedra nodded after a long while of consideration; everything he said made sense. The attacks were going to continue either way, why should she feel bad if there wasn't anything she could do to stop it?

"Do you think," she said quietly chewing her lower lip, "that Mathias gave me this particular task on purpose? Like a test to see how I would handle it and see which route I would take to solve it?"

Tayvan shrugged again. Mathias was surprisingly far-sighted for a human.

"Did he want to test if I would venture into the morally gray ground and allow those people to die for my own personal gain or take the safe path and keep myself absolved from that responsibility but inevitably go slow likely resulting in more attacks anyway... shit." Vaedra grumbled, a string of curses under her breath.

"Such a mouth!" Tayvan playfully reprimanded, pulling her into his embrace for a kiss, effectively shushing her.

After a moment, he withdrew and looked at her meaningfully. "Love, the man may be interested in how you solve this problem yes, but I hardly think he would put you in a situation with no correct outcome. He doesn't wish you to fail, he loves you too much."

Vaedra sighed and continued walking, and the night elf almost felt bad for her. She would learn. Either that or she wouldn't and never realize what it was she had.

"You're right." She admitted after they'd traveled in silence a while, slipping her hand into his. He squeezed her fingers lightly.

She still had a great deal to learn.

-

Two nights passed without incident and on the third Vaedra realized how much patience was really necessary for what they were doing.

"It's been a week since the last ambush," she reiterated for the fourth time, growing exacerbated at the inactivity. They had been trailing the latest set of wagons for several hours and though the caravan had left early so as not to get caught traveling in darkness, a broken wheel had set their time back significantly and had the drivers beginning to look rather nervous.

"Patience." Tayvan said automatically, the same response he had given her all four times. This time though he added, "But if I were a bandit, I certainly wouldn't be able to pass up such a temptingly vulnerable target."

The pair were both dressed in black leather armor, not especially flashy and quite thin, but it would protect them from shallow wounds and aid in their stealth efforts. Tayvan also had a cloth mask covering the lower portion of his face and had his silvery-white hair pulled back away from his face.

"If you were a bandit?" Vaedra teased suddenly, grinning at the night elf. "That mask does make you look rather dangerous."

The night elf struck a heroic pose, making Vaedra giggle into her hand when a cry sounded from the caravan below. The rogues peered over the top of the hill just off the side of the road watching as a group of men descended upon the wagons filled with supplies and grain. The shipment had nearly made it to the bridge that crossed over from Westfall into Elwynn Forest at Forest's Edge when the bandits seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

Several of them wielded wooden crossbows while others sported short swords and daggers but they all appeared to wear a distinctive red bandanna that covered their noses and mouths. Vaedra watched in horror as the drivers were overwhelmed, one brave young man had even come equipped with his own blade which he ineptly brandished when a crossbow had been aimed at his chest.

She tried to rise from her position on the hill and sneak down to the caravan's aid when Tayvan's heavy hand forced her back down onto her stomach.

"No!" He hissed in her ear. "Don't be foolish."

Vaedra struggled uselessly for a moment as she watched another man try to flee and get shot in the back with a heavy bolt. She turned her face away into Tayvan's shoulder.

"I won't watch then."

Grabbing the back of her head none too gently he forced her neck around and whispered harshly, "Yes, you will. You need to."

And she did.

The sharp clicking of the crossbows rang out twice more followed by an agonized groan and the quick slash of metal indicating that the remainder of the drivers had been dealt with. The bodies were dragged into the bushes and the bandits seized the wagons and began guiding the horses back around and down the southwestern road.

Tayvan released his grip and rose from the hill, indicating that it was time to move; Vaedra followed.

Staying a safe distance away, they were only able to pick up bits and pieces of conversation and Vaedra thought she heard something about how it had been far too easy with another responding that it was only right seeing as how they were only reclaiming what was owed to them.

The band of thieves weren't stupid and traveled slowly down the road while keeping their voices low despite the successful haul. Finally they stopped at a farm with a shoddy two-story home and a large silo next to the field. They pulled the wagons up next to the house and quickly began to unload.

The rogues crept up to the fence surrounding the field, keeping their heads low and watching the bandits unpack the supplies. Tayvan whispered for Vaedra to stay put for the moment and began to sneak over to the silo, crouching behind a crate so he could get a closer look.

Vaedra's breath caught in her throat, stopping herself from calling out a warning as she watched a man emerge from around the silo, fastening his pants and hoisting his crossbow when he spotted the night elf.

"You there, don't move." He slurred heavily, stepping closer slowly to press the point into Tayvan's back.

The night elf cursed and slowly lifted his hands, nonthreatening, hoping that Vaedra would see his predicament.

And indeed she did, pulling her swords free she moved towards the man with the red bandanna when a twig snapped beneath her foot and he turned towards her, startled.

Tayvan seized the opportunity to turn and grab the man clumsily, loosing his footing and sending both of them crashing into the crate behind them.

A shout came from the house once the commotion began and Vaedra knew they were in trouble. She disappeared around the back of the silo.

The human man lay on his back on top of Tayvan, his movements slow and awkward from whatever alcohol he had imbibed, struggling against the night elf's superior grapple. Working his dagger free from his belt, Tayvan abandoned all subtlety and began making desperate, shallow stabs into the man's side and chest using his longer arms to his advantage.

The bandit howled and flailed, sending the man that had left the house to investigate running ahead with his sword drawn. As he came around the silo, however, Vaedra appeared behind him, blades piercing through his back, sending him to the ground.

Tayvan shoved the dying man off and rose, ready to flee, but it was too late. Six more men had emerged from the house and had the two rogues surrounded around the curve of the silo, crossbows poised to shoot.

"Drop your weapons!" One particularly ugly bandit snarled and the pair had little choice but to obey.

"It's going to be all right." Tayvan whispered before he was clubbed over the head and knocked out cold.

Vaedra cried out as she was pushed onto the ground, an empty grain sack covering her head. The last thing she heard was a grizzled voice ordering them to be separated and brought inside before everything went dark.

-

Vaedra awoke to an awful stench. She was lying on a hard, dirty floor and the throbbing in her head only intensified as she cracked one eye open and she saw the light seeping in through the filmy window that left a square of brightness on the musty wood. When she tried to rise she found her hands bound behind her back and her feet tied with rope.

Gingerly turning her head she discovered the source of the smell, an old man lay dead, apparently for some time, with his head bashed in and blood long dried matting his hair and clothes. A filthy rat stood on the man's chest nibbling at his torn lip and Vaedra had to look away and swallow the bile in her throat.

Her mission came rushing back to her, and she realized that the bandits had apparently taken over one of the farms in Westfall, killing the residents and using it as their own hideout. But they had been captured... and where was Tayvan?

All was quiet in the house for many hours until she heard the stirrings of daily activity. And it wasn't long after that that Vaedra began to hear agonized groans that quickly became screams. She trembled violently; she knew it was Tayvan.

The door to the room she was in crashed open some time later; the ugly man from the night before entered with a hand covering his nose.

"Hey! Someone come get this body out of here, looks like the little, pretty one is awake." He yelled behind him, turning to smile at her lewdly.

Vaedra's wrists twisted against her bonds futilely.

Two men entered and dragged the body away, the rat scurrying off to crawl into a small hole in the floor.

The ugly man was covered in hair and dirt and smelt of smoke and cheap liquor; Vaedra nearly gagged as he bent over her and began to stroke her neck.

"Hello, pretty." His eyes raked over her body. "Your friend downstairs has been rather uncooperative so far. He refuses to tell us who you two work for. Can you believe it? Even when we threatened to do horrible, nasty thing to you he declares that he doesn't care, that we can do whatever we like. He's a cold fellow, eh?"

Vaedra spat in his face.

He laughed as he wiped the saliva away. "That's what I thought you might say. But it's all right. We've got plenty of time."

When the ugly bandit tried to shove his tongue into her mouth and she attempted to bite down though, it earned the rogue a black eye and a split lip.

Muttering angrily, the man rolled Vaedra onto her back and roughly pulled her pants down around her tied ankles. "I wasn't going to be dainty with you anyway, pretty, but it's a shame that I have to rough you up so soon."

Vaedra tried to wriggle away unsuccessfully as the man undid his own pants and leered down at her. There was no escape.

She moaned softly as he raped her. He slapped her hard across the face suddenly, making her cry out. "Why don't you scream for me, pretty? That way your friend downstairs will know exactly what I'm doing to you. We'll see how cold he really is once he finds out we've been fucking his plaything."

Vaedra knew she cried from the wetness on her cheeks though she didn't remember later actually doing it. After a minute or so the man above her grunted and shuddered as he finished, grabbing her breasts and squeezing painfully.

He refastened his pants and began to leave when the two men from before appeared in the doorway, silently asking permission. The ugly man tossed an amused glance over his shoulder at the half-naked girl before he said, "Go ahead, boys. Unless of course, pretty here has something she'd like to tell us?"

Vaedra whimpered in response. Even if she did tell them anything they'd likely still use her however they wished.

The man shrugged after a moment, not surprised. "All right then. An extra share to whoever can make her beg for mercy first." And he left.

For Vaedra, the night seemed to last an eternity.

But many more followed and her only comfort from day to day were Tayvan's tortured cries because at least then she knew that he was still alive.

The evening they stopped though, she feared the worst. She had heard that the bandits were going out, probably to raid another caravan, maybe they didn't want the trouble of keeping the two rogues alive anymore...

She lay there helpless and battered, having barely moved after the first incident, becoming catatonic and detached after being violated repeatedly. She knew she would probably die here, the bandits would never let her leave and reveal their hideout to anyone... she wasn't even quite sure how she even felt about that.

The girl stared blankly at the wall as the door slowly creaked open, trying to control her trembling when a soft voice whispered.

"Vaedra?"

Tayvan knelt over her, his eyes wide. With her torn clothing it was obvious what had been done to her.

"Tayvan?" She cried, looking up to see him there. His face was bruised horribly, almost beyond recognition; he held a finger to his lips to quiet her.

The night elf reached over and began to tug at the ropes binding her wrists, but his hands were shaking badly.

"How did you escape?" She stuttered, unable to heed his warning.

"Not now!" He hissed, looking over his shoulder nervously.

A door slammed from somewhere on the first floor, followed by a yell, "The night elf, he's escaped!"

Tayvan tried again to untie the ropes, but he couldn't get the secure knot undone.

Vaedra looked up at him pleadingly, but in his shining, white eyes she saw something she'd never witnessed in him before. Fear. He was afraid at being caught and at what they would do to him if they did.

Tayvan stood up and took a step back away from the girl on the floor.

"Tayvan?" Vaedra whimpered, confused.

"I'm... I'm sorry." He stammered, inching backwards. He didn't want to leave her there, but he didn't want to die more. He could carry her, but that would probably only slow him down and likely get them both caught. He hadn't survived for thousands of years by being reckless... No, better that at least one of them could escape.

"I'm sorry, Vaedra." The night elf whispered again, fleeing from the room.

She blinked after him, disbelieving that he had abandoned her there.

"But...but..." she quivered to no one, tears spilling down her cheeks once again.

"Check the girl's room!" One of the bandits cried. Two sets of feet thundered up the stairs, the men glancing into her room and seeing that she still remained and that the night elf was nowhere in sight; they quickly departed.

She had been heartbroken and left to die all in one instant. No, she couldn't die here. She had to persist. That's what he did, isn't it? Tayvan served no one but himself, it was apparent. So she had only herself to rely on when situations became difficult? So be it. If he had found a way to escape than so could she.

In their haste, the thieves had left the door to the room open and unlocked. She glanced around, finally feeling like she had reason to shake free from the stupor that had gripped her and examine her environment. The house was old and shoddily made, perhaps she could find a loose nail to use to slice the rope apart...

Vaedra wiggled over to the hole that the rat had retreated through that first day, finding exposed hardware and jagged splinters from the plank that had been broken probably years ago. From outside she could hear shouts as the remaining bandits began searching for the escapee; she didn't have much time.

Twisting around and sliding her wrists over to the nail she began trying to saw through the rope, the sharp corners tearing and slicing into her skin. She felt wetness running down her fingers, mimicking the wetness that coated her face.

Groaning in pain, she finally felt the bonds loosen enough for her to slip them off and start on her ankle ties. She tried not to look at her hands; they were torn up terribly.

Rising shakily to her feet, Vaedra wrapped the remainder of her tattered clothing around herself and stumbled out of the room and down the stairs.

_Have to get away..._

She didn't think, she hardly breathed. She had to escape.

She disappeared into the night.

-

"Light!" Mathias breathed. "Vaedra what happened to you?" He held his arms out to her, seeking to comfort the battered girl.

She wanted to so badly. To fall into Mathias' embrace and cry until she had nothing left to give. To let all the hurt out to be washed away, to cleanse the terrible emptiness that seemed to have lodged itself in her heart. But she didn't. Vaedra brushed his hands aside.

Mathias swallowed hard, not wanting to imagine the horrors that she had experienced. He could already assume by her bruised face and ripped clothing at least one thing that had happened...

"Where is Tayvan?" He asked quietly.

Vaedra's face hardened into a stony mask; her voice was icy. "I don't think we'll be seeing him again."

Mathias wasn't sure if that meant he was dead or that he had fled, but he nodded, content with the answer for the time being.

"Can I..." he began, unsure of what else to say. "Can I get you anything?"

"No," she replied immediately, her tone sounded dead and flat.

To accept Mathias' help was to reach outward, to place trust in someone again. He had been her friend and mentor since she was young though she told herself, she knew she should let him help her. No, Tayvan had been an excellent rogue, even if he was a horrible person. He had shown her that she could only count on herself.

"But..." she said as Mathias had begun to depart and leave her alone thinking that's what she wanted.

"... I do need to practice more."

* * *


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"My lord?" Kel'thuzad repeated, glancing up from under his deep bow. "Did you hear me, my lord?"

The Lich King sat on his throne with one hand covering his eyes, elbow leaning heavily upon the arm of his chair, seemingly not listening or just not caring to the lich's important announcement.

Kel'thuzad didn't particularly like the idea of assigning human characteristics to describe his Master's state of mind or mannerisms, but he really could not think of any better word to encompass the entirety of the Lich King's demeanor right then other than 'brooding'.

"Scourgeholme, my lord. It is lost." The lich reiterated grimly. The ill news did not have the desired effect, however; his Master still said nothing.

He continued on, hoping to elicit some kind of response. "We sustained heavy losses during the battle at Crusader's Pinnacle, my lord. Our forces were thrown forward rather recklessly and the Argent Crusade cut right through them. The Scourge is vast yes, but not infinite..." The lich was purposely baiting him by overstepping his bounds and pointing out the King's failure. Kel'thuzad knew he hated that.

And indeed he did, but the Lich King's face lie unmoving behind the concealment of his glove.

Kel'thuzad seemed to know a lot of things, especially things that were better left unsaid, such as which of the qualities seemed to have carried over from when before Arthas donned the armor and helm. Things like pride and the childish need to control _everything _that transpired around him. But it was no longer a childish notion for he now had the power and means to make it a reality, and the lich knew that his King would accept nothing but totality. It was not enough to conquer most; it had to be all, completely and unequivocally. And now, because he had failed to control the human woman, allowed her to slip out of his grasp, a large portion of territory in Icecrown had been lost to the Argent Crusade.

Kel'thuzad would never had said it, but his Master had practically thrown Scourgeholme away. His undead minions had been pushing the Crusader's of Virtues upward towards the Pinnacle, their doom imminent, spirits soon to be broken as they witnessed the fall of their Highlord and beloved tower only to have the plan and his will falter when the rogue revealed her treachery. The Lich King had fled, full of agony and rage. He had flung off his helm and left his undead alone and without orders, the mindless creatures could only stand there stupidly with no reason to defend themselves as the Argent Crusade slaughtered them all. And of course Fordring saw this and seized the opportunity to press forward into Scourgeholme though he hadn't a clue what had gone awry with the Lich King's plans, likely singing praises to the Light for granting them aid in their hour of need.

Now, weeks later, Fordring's foot was in deep enough to claim the land as their own and in celebration of their triumph the paladins had even begun a morale-boosting tournament along the northern border of Icecrown. Kel'thuzad could not believe their audacity and was even more shocked that his Master simply chose to accept the paladins' presence there as well. Icecrown was the Lich King's doorstep, and all manner of his enemies had come together in a collection of festivities, sermons and merrymaking... It just wouldn't do. He needed to spur his Master into action before this went too far...

"My lord, even as we speak now the Argent Crusade works to sanctify and consecrate the land. Fordring gallivants about with the Ashbringer in tow as they shine blessings of the Light down upon the broken ziggurats, capturing Cultists in hopes of reformation by filling their heads with pure and good nonsense, properly putting the dead to rest in ostentatious displays of holiness that spit in the face of the Scourge's ideals, seeking to-"

The Lich King brought his fist down sharply onto the arm of his chair, dislodging several of the shimmering icicles that adorned the throne in the frozen chamber.

"Enough!" He growled at last, turning his icy stare upon the lich who immediately dipped into another bow.

"I am well aware of the events transpiring within my own dominion, lich." The Lich King hissed through clenched teeth.

"Of course, my lord. My sincerest apologies. I only wish to-"

"You only wish to anger me? To incite my fury so that I may strike out decisively against the Argent Crusade once more because it appears that I am weak and unable to keep my 'emotions' in check? Is that what you wish?"

"My lord," Kel'thuzad managed to sound humbled yet still collected and calm all at once. "Your will is my will."

The Lich King had no argument for that, for certainly the lich was the most loyal of commanders, but the statement was vague and mockingly appeasing. In life the necromancer had been decidedly useful, charismatic in the persuasion of mortals, manipulative and bright. But in undeath, he had only become sharper, knowing exactly how far he dare press his Master while still remaining the unswervingly faithful servant, subtly twisting events in his favor whenever the opportunity arose.

Now though, the lich's words had been more than just laced with insolence, they were blatantly edged with derision, painting a wonderfully colorful picture of his Master's failure. Kel'thuzad must have been feeling desperate and trapped indeed if he let his words run away with him so carelessly... or was he so foolish as to think that he was untouchable for he had proven himself time and time again to the Lich King? Unlikely, he had persisted through much.

Regardless, no one dare speak to him in that fashion. No one that valued their existence anyway... Unless you were someone who's very life dangled by a thread at the Lich King's hand, someone who had become important strategically but in other ways as well... and someone who was very much aware of their value. That being might speak to him in such a manner.

The train of thought only renewed his agitation ten-fold. He hadn't yet decided what was to be done about her, and the lich's nagging presence had only dampened further considerations due to his constant prattling and urgings to act.

Despite the passage of weeks, the Lich King's disbelief, frustration and turmoil had not abated. All the questions of _how_ she had done it had been posed time and time again, though he had cautiously avoided the questions of _why_. Did he simply just not trust himself to determine whether or not the feelings he had felt her convey had been real? Had she merely been acting true to her roguish nature and doing what served her best at the time?

How foolish she was to pass up the chance to reside in the most secure of the Lich King's fortresses, to live a life immortal and full of adventure, to stand so very closely to a being as vastly powerful as him. He wanted to scoff aloud. What did she really know of opportunity then?

No, she'd prefer to be 'free'. Laughable. To her being free was to be alone and miserable, ever unfulfilled in life and purpose. He could have given her existence meaning! Goals and power, a designated place in the darkness that would have settled across Azeroth...

Kel'thuzad watched as his Master retreated inward once again, having a heavy inclination as to what exactly drew him to silence and this 'brooding' so very often. The lich wasn't entirely certain what had transpired between his Master and the human woman, only that the consequences of her actions and now her absence were affecting him profoundly. The only thing the Lich King had ever seemed to care about was power, to conquer and annihilate... surely now that the effects of his inaction were unfolding and his conquest was at risk he would see the folly of this continued emotional weakness...

"My lord, may I inquire as to the purpose of-"

Before Kel'thuzad could begin his tirade again, the Lich King interrupted with a harsh slash of his hand.

"Enough of your continuous dance about the truth in hopes of uncovering some great mystery, lich. Speak your piece plainly. Address your concerns or ask your questions so that I may deem them worthy of an answer or not and I can be rid of your tiresome presence at last." His fingers dug harshly into the icy metal of his seat.

The lich held his skeletal arms out in an apologetic gesture, always serene. "Of course, my lord. I do not seek to waste your time-"

"Then speak and cease wasting it."

He knew better than to continue stalling, as the air would often begin to hum and crackle with energy when his Master grew angry...

"As I stated before, my lord, Scourgeholme has been lost to the Argent Crusade and with this development and the existing strength of their forces located at the Pinnacle I fear that Mord'rethar may be in peril..."

"The Death Gate will hold." The Lich King said dismissively and with an air of over-confidence.

"My lord," Kel'thuzad quietly insisted, "Mord'rethar was nearly taken by the Alliance once already. Icecrown's first line of defense will not hold long if the Argent Crusade-"

"Nearly taken? You forget that that attempt was neatly diffused by the Horde and the everlasting struggle that erupts between them. They will always fight amongst themselves as we already know and have always intended. In fact, the Broken Front was further reinforced with Scourge by the very battle that ensued as they turned to fight one another and the Alliance were caught between us and the Horde. And you think that the Death Gate is in peril?"

The lich was at a loss. How could his Master not see that the circumstances had changed? The Argent Crusade possessed vital territory and with their tournament in full swing it was quite likely the Horde and Alliance might be able to set aside their differences for a time in a conjoined effort against the Scourge. The situation could turn dire very quickly if they weren't careful...

Kel'thuzad opened his fleshless jaw to interject yet again when the Lich King brought a hand to his chin speculatively as though he were thinking aloud.

"However, I do think that further defenses may a prudent choice in a time such as this..."

The lich let out a relieved sigh. "Of course, my lord, whatever you think is best. Might I suggest that we-"

With a sardonic smile, his Master ignored whatever it was Kel'thuzad had been going to say and provided his own solution.

"I think it would be best for you to leave the Dragonblight and bring Naxxaramas to Icecrown."

Kel'thuzad nearly blanched. "But my lord-"

"But nothing!" The Lich King looked almost like he was enjoying himself, the smallest of evil grins adorning his face. "By your own words the Death Gate is in need of reinforcements. Who better than to defend it than you? Why, you practically volunteered, and I couldn't be more pleased."

The lich dipped low in acknowledgement, though he said nothing. He had been more than content to keep his own personal citadel in place in Dragonblight, especially after the destruction of Wintergarde Keep where he could perform his own experiments and rule over his own small section of the Lich King's forces. At least his Master seemed to have broken free temporarily from the disillusioned lethargy that had gripped him, though this hadn't been what Kel'thuzad had had in mind exactly...

Thinking that the meeting was over, the lich turned and began to float from the chamber when the Lich King's rumbling voice washed over him again.

"You have your reservations about bringing _my_ citadel to Icecrown, lich?"

Kel'thuzad stopped, not yet ready to turn as he considered carefully his answer to the trick question.

"Your will, will be done, my lord. It is not my place to question your decisions-"

"I know you do. Just answer plainly."

Drifting back around to face his King, the lich nodded minutely. "Yes, my lord. I have my reservations."

The Lich King nodded, with mock sympathy. "Of course, I can understand that. You've ruled over Naxxaramas in your own isolated section of the world for quite some time... but I think I may have a solution to put your fears to rest there as well."

Kel'thuzad would have swallowed hard then if he could have, though he visibly descended several inches closer to the ground.

With growing momentum the Lich King continued, "There is a great deal of risk involved by you coming to Icecrown if you are to be facing off against the combined efforts of the Horde and Alliance and the Argent Crusade... but you have always been such a loyal asset to me, I wouldn't want to endanger your safety. Your years of service have not gone unnoticed, and because of it I now extend to you an _offer_... the opportunity to store your phylactery here, in Icecrown Citadel."

Kel'thuzad struggled to keep his visage impassive. His phylactery. A lich's most important possession. The soul of a lich was stored within it, usually hidden away in the most unlikely of places. The lich's corporeal body could be destroyed over and over but it would always reform and return fully as long as the phylactery was in tact. And indeed, Icecrown Citadel was the safest place to store anything and the _offer _sounded to be perfectly reasonable, but to the astute Kel'thuzad, the veiled threat was obvious.

To refuse such a generous and logical gift would be insolent and could likely result in the loss of power, but to agree... His Master was reaffirming his superiority by making a seemingly undeniable and gracious suggestion that would keep the lich painfully close and obedient. And he had done it just a blink of an eye.

Kel'thuzad could only bow deeply in extreme appreciation. "Your benevolence knows no bounds, my lord." He dared to say with as much honesty as he could muster before hastily departing lest his Master have any more _offers _to make.

The Lich King smiled to himself once the lich had gone, but it quickly faded as the amusement he had gained from watching Kel'thuzad squirm abated. Perhaps next time the lich would not be so quick to make assumptions on things he knew nothing about and keep the subtle intricacies that were implied in practically every word he spoke in check.

The exertion of control over his minions usually served to improve his mood and further strengthen his sovereignty in their eyes, but his thoughts inevitably turned elsewhere.

He could no longer feel the woman's presence as he could before, but he _knew _that she remained yet in Northrend. She hadn't in her to flee and live out her life somewhere in seclusion and inactivity and even more so, he didn't believe that she would stray too far from the Lich King's domain. Whether it be from a misguided sense of duty to use her new power against 'evil' or because her feelings simply refused to let her distance herself from the being that had filled the hole in her heart, he knew eventually she would have to reveal herself for her life would be incomplete if she did not.

He had to believe that. His pride didn't allow for otherwise.

-

"Open fire!"

The yell came followed closely by the explosion of cannons, the whirring of harpoons and the subtle hum of magic.

The Alliance flagship, the Skybreaker, reeled and rumbled as Orgrim's Hammer swiftly returned with an attack of it's own and Thassarian was forced to grab hold of the railing near his post to prevent himself from going over the edge.

"Get those shields up!" Chief Officer Leonards cried.

The high elven shield-mages waved their hands in synchrony, conjuring magical, kinetic barriers to protect the ship and it's soldiers from the return fire. As the shields formed and began to be sustained in place, a stray cannon shot blew away an unfortunate Valiance Expedition soldier not but ten feet away from where Thassarian stood.

The death knight muttered a curse and began stumbling his way over to the Skybreaker's Captain who had positioned himself in the aft castle, shouting out orders to his navigator.

Absalan the Pious clutched his holy symbol to his chest as the ship lurched again, praying fervently. "Oh holy Light, bless these men and women, please protect them in this hour of need. Grant us the strength of body and mind necessary to defeat these foes and the illumination to see after who the real enemy is..." The dwarf cleric yelped as a section of wooden stairs were splintered into pieces behind him.

"Aim for their bloody sails! Erm, balloons!"

Thassarian rushed to the Skybreaker's bridge, incredulous that the High Captain had decided to so blatantly and suddenly attack the Horde vessel.

"Are you mad?!" The death knight cried furiously; Justin Bartlett turned to address the noisy interruption.

The High Captain waved him away dismissively. "I have no time for you, death knight!" Without so much as a second glance he continued his orders. "Keep firing! I want that blasted thing blown out of the sky!"

Thassarian came over and placed himself in front of Bartlett at the foot of the stairs as another wave of cannon fire blasted across to Orgrim's Hammer. "Why do you attack them _now_?! We can do nothing against the Scourge if you and the Horde are constantly at each other's throats! Do you enjoy being Arthas' pawn? Because that's exactly what you're doing, he wants you to destroy each other!"

Before the High Captain could response, a shout came from the Chief Officer on deck. "The Horde ship is damaged! They are retreating!"

"Pursue them!" Bartlett replied, pleased with their advantage.

"NO!" The roar came from Thassarian so suddenly and forcefully that everyone in earshot stopped and stared. Every soldier and crewman on board the Skybreaker knew the death knight to be a dangerous man and none were especially eager to see him angry.

Captain Bartlett's hand drifted to the hilt of his sword as he scowled at Thassarian in rage. "I should kill you where you stand. Have you forgotten so quickly who's captain of this ship? Forgotten which side you're on?"

Intolerance, skepticism and outright hatred were not new concepts to the death knight. He lowered his voice. "I was the first to rejoin the Alliance, and I swore to do whatever was in my power to fight the Scourge. By the King of Stormwind's own decree-"

"The king isn't here." Bartlett said flatly, earning him a sideways glance from several of the soldiers. "You can't play by the rules when your enemy doesn't either. This is war, and the Horde has made their intentions clear."

"You fight your war on two fronts, splitting your forces and leaving yourself vulnerable to the Lich King!" Thassarian argued heatedly.

The High Captain took a step closer to the death knight, giving himself a two-stair advantage which put him right at eye level with the larger man.

"The sooner the Horde are no longer a variable the sooner this war can be done and over with. You think I don't know who the real threat is here? You expect us to press on to Icecrown Citadel itself with those mongrels constantly at our backs? Unless of course you want to see a repeat of what happened at the Broken Front..."

Thassarian cringed as he remembered. The Alliance had been moving in against Mord'rethar when the Horde had appeared from out of nowhere and caught the Valiance Expedition soldiers between them and the Scourge. It had been a slaughter.

"Yes," Bartlett continued with superiority, thinking he had won the argument. "And just yesterday the Horde attacked a contingent of my men stationed on the ground at the base of Ymirheim without provocation."

"Without provocation?!" The death knight growled disbelievingly. "You have bounties out on any and every Horde in Icecrown, rewarding mercenaries who return with their heads! You gun down their messengers daily, you spend the majority of your resources working to sabotage their plans to sabotage us. You are just as guilty of fueling this insane fire as they are!"

The High Captain's hands curled into fists, seething. "If you dislike my methods so very much, I can't help but wonder why you decide to stick around. Oh wait, that's right," he gave a little laugh. "You just want to serve the Alliance, is that it? I think I find it much more likely that you're just here so you can see what we're up to, steal secrets and spy on our movements. Once a traitor, always a traitor, isn't that right?"

As the words left Bartlett's lips, he almost regret saying them for the angry gleam that entered Thassarian's eye spoke of death, but he had to keep face on his own ship and pasted a smug grin on his face.

Every crew member and soldier held their breath and reached for their weapons as Thassarian seized the High Captain's tabard and hauled him close, whispering harshly. "You... know... _nothing._"

Neither men spoke for a long moment, staring each other down, the air heavy with their words. With a grunt, Thassarian released the man none to gently and turned to leave.

Bartlett considered calling something offensive after him, about how the death knight was going to return to his real Master, but decided he'd rather not goad him any farther, not knowing how far the man might go to defend his honor.

In truth, Thassarian was quite honorable and the High Captain had witnessed that in him as well as the loyalty and eagerness to help in dispatching their enemies. He wasn't sure what had come over him to spur the argument or why he'd accused him of treason but the recent Horde attacks had set Bartlett on edge. Not to mention the damned death knight flagrantly disobeying his orders in front of the entire crew...

Without another word, Thassarian grabbed a bundle from the ship's stores of parachutes and pulled it on. He strode over to the side of the ship and simply leapt off the side.

The crewman all stared at the space the death knight had previously occupied, flabbergasted that he had just jumped off the Skybreaker with no warning or concern whatsoever. Several pairs of eyes looked to the High Captain.

"What are you all gaping at? Get back to work!" Bartlett barked; everyone scurried back to life. "Get started on those repairs!"

He hoped he hadn't driven off Thassarian for good, his work in Icecrown so far had been invaluable.

As the death knight yanked on the cord of his parachute, he looked around to see exactly where the Skybreaker had been flying when he had jumped and where he would be ending up...

Aldur'thar loomed ahead of Thassarian, overlooking the Desolation Gate, Icecrown's second line of defense and a well-established area of known Cultist activity.

Good, he needed to kill something.

* * *

_Author's Note: Okay, I just need to say one thing... the Black Knight? If you've played at the Argent Tournament, you'll know what I'm talking about. As much I love the Monty Python tribute (the 'It's only a flesh wound' achievement made me giggle), LK decides to send this ONE guy to the tournament to compete in a ill-conceived attempt to 'sabotage' it? Practically every faction is represented there in this uber Light-fest filled with paladins and holiness and peachy goodness, and along comes the Black Knight to try and crash the party... I'm very disappointed in you, LK -.-_


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Vaedra wasn't especially fond of torture, but so far her attempts to elicit any information either through threats, coercion or lies had been utterly unsuccessful on the fanatical Cultists of the Damned at Aldur'thar.

She'd found a rather secluded spot on one of the overhangs of the fortress that overlooked the Desolation Gate and it had been easy enough to find a distracted acolyte to subdue and drag to the top. The man she had selected this time was thin and wiry with little strength in his limbs, likely a spellcaster of some kind, but she had seen to it that his hands were firmly tied. The rogue couldn't quite tell whether the man was young or old, his face was strangely ageless and wan as though he were already one of the undead that he held so dear.

Once he had come to after being incapacitated, his faintly glowing eyes had darted furtively every which way, never quite focusing on anything in particular as he began muttering bits and pieces of incoherent babble.

The rogue sighed. They couldn't all be crazy, could they? The Cultists had been far too bothersome and accomplished much for them all to be insane, unless there was some kind of unifying force that brought them together somehow in a twisted concoction of madness and chaos.

For the past few weeks, Vaedra had been at war with herself. Should she depart? Try to put everything that had transpired behind her? She had even tried to leave Northrend once, but when the time came to board the ship she was conveniently absent. She knew she couldn't remain idle... it would lead to too many questions and uncertainty, and she didn't want to think about where that uncertainty would lead.

No, it was impossible to pretend that nothing had changed, and even the cowardly part of her knew that she needed to try to make the most of it. The power she had stolen from the Lich King was still new and foreign to her, seemingly boundless in potential to someone who had once been mortal.

Or was she still? Of course there were many entities more powerful than her, but if she so chose she could have found a secluded section of Azeroth and never had to pick up her swords again and lived on in youth for years to come...

But that thought appalled her. There was so much she could accomplish now, the only real decision being for what side and purpose?

And even now as she secretly sabotaged the Cult of the Damned, kidnapping and murdering their numbers and stealing information the rogue had never actually made the conscious decision to use her new powers against the Lich King. Though even if she had made the choice to serve one of the many factions that opposed the Lich King once more she would have found that she had few options left. She was a traitor to the Alliance and hated by the Horde, unwelcome as a rogue by the Argent Crusade and viewed as a betrayer by the Ebon Blade for the part she played in luring them into the Cathedral of Darkness.

Indeed she had no one left to serve but herself, which was a frightening thought for she had seen the effects of gambling her own life to do what needed to be done to meet her own ends.

Of course, amidst that jumble of people and their banners there was always one other choice...

Was it really even a possibility? Was returning to the creature that opposed everything that all of those factions believed in, the man who had become a perfect paragon of evil and destruction... was it even a choice? Vaedra almost laughed. She knew she never would, even if she did secretly desire it, fully knowing that whatever fairytale scenario she might imagine would never be true.

So instead, somehow, she had found her way back to the gates of Icecrown, working to disrupt whatever she could of the Cultist's insane plans.

Her attention returned to the lanky man as his murmuring continued. Pointedly, the rogue slid the dagger she kept hidden in her boot slowly out as she knelt before the Cultist, deliberately drawing it close to his face.

"I'm going to ask you again now. And this time if you don't start answering, I'm going to start cutting off fingers."

The man's eyes snapped onto the dagger as she spoke and his tongue left his mouth to lick his lips consideringly.

_Ahh, so they do know fear after all... _

If the man indeed was a spellcaster, he probably highly valued the use of his hands. Even though the Cultists had dedicated themselves entirely to the Lich King and his cause it was very unlikely that all but the most zealous could completely ignore their mortal concerns, which was what Vaedra had been counting on.

The rogue's face was impassive as the man's gaze passed over her form dressed in black leather. There wasn't anything outwardly remarkable about her, she had dark, wavy hair and pale but youthful skin. Her irises however, were an unusual shade of purple that shone with an unnatural glow... she wasn't sure if this gave her a more intimidating appearance for surely an average girl like herself didn't exactly cut an imposing figure, but she supposed when she was the one holding the knife it really didn't matter.

"Alumeth..." Vaedra repeated, holding her dagger delicately between her fingers. "I've destroyed his body but still you all repeatedly work to imbue his soul, where is it?"

Alumeth the Ascended, a Cultist who had sacrificed himself in the pursuit of more power. Much like a lich his corporeal form had been dealt with numerous times before it escalated into something unmanageable but as long as his soul remained the rogue's and the Alliance's efforts were in vain for his acolytes worked to continuously boost his power. But if she were to learn of the location of it's source...

The Cultist's lips slowly curled away form his teeth, a hideous grin that showed far too much gum. "You just don't get it, do you..." He cackled maniacally at the woman's frown. "You all think we're insane for serving the Master. Are we? Are we really? The rest of you serve others as well, _lesser _beings. Is serving a warlord or a priest or men any better? Surely not! For our Master's power is vast, and it is an inevitable truth that we shall serve him in death, so why not accept that fact and ease the passage..."

Vaedra had had enough. She took her dagger to the man's hand and sliced off his right index finger at the knuckle.

The Cultist howled in a twisted mixture of pain and laughter that made the rogue's skin crawl, as though the violence had only served to fuel his ardor.

"Hahah! Fool! Do what you will! Mangle my body, torture me, I care not! I will only live to rise again in glorious undeath and continue my work there, you can never win!" His entire form was taken by tremors as he shook from the mad glee and agony in his hand.

"What if..." Vaedra said calmly, unaffected by his tirade and wiping her blade on the man's robes. "... what if I promised that once I had killed you, I would see to it that your body was burned beyond recognition and that there would be nothing left to raise?"

His gurgling laughter stopped at the rogue's comment, eyes glazing over. Lifting his head up to stare at the sky, the acolyte began speaking, though it seemed to be mostly to himself. "Surely it would be blasphemous to reveal anything of the Master's designs to one of the unfaithful...but surely it would also be blasphemous to knowingly allow myself to not enter the Master's service in undeath!"

Vaedra sighed again; this truly was getting her nowhere. She supposed she could call the man's bluff and continue with torture in hopes that eventually the sheer physical duress would overwrite whatever doctrines had been so thoroughly ingrained into his mind, but to what end? This particular man may not even know anything useful, and it seemed her efforts and energies were going to waste on such a pitiful and tedious subject.

As she glanced back down at the Cultist, she noticed that he seemed to be looking past her, distracted by something else. The rogue spared a glance over her shoulder in time to see a dark figure parachuting downward, floating heavily on the current towards Aldur'thar and her current position. Unable to discern any more details, Vaedra quickly willed herself to fade from view, to become insubstantial and transparent. Gliding away from the bloodied acolyte she slid over to the fortress wall to watch and wait.

The figure collapsed in a heap atop the overhang, muttering and cursing loudly as he disentangled himself from the canvas and cords of his parachute. Vaedra's eyes widened as the large man emerged from under the material, recognizing him immediately.

_Shit, not Thassarian... _

The rogue was definitely not eager to be discovered by the death knight especially considering the way their last encounter had ended...

Vaedra had been captured and taken to the Shadow Vault where her treachery and assistance in the Lich King's plan to lure Tirion Fordring to the Cathedral of Darkness was exposed. Thassarian had come to her, demanding an explanation, furious that she was willingly serving the Lich King while not under the sway of undeath. But she had said nothing to defend herself, for what could she have?

Much of what she did had been out of necessity, out of a need for a survival... the other part had been nearly as important: doing whatever she could to find a worthy challenge to give her existence meaning. But how would one explain that, especially to one so pure of heart and fully committed to the annihilation of the Scourge?

All was quiet atop the Aldur'thar fortress save the howling wind and the muted mumbling of the Cultist who lay on his side in a small pool of his own blood.

Thassarian glanced around suspiciously, drawing one sword from his back as he slowly approached the man on the ground with a sneer.

The acolyte began reciting words in a strange sing-song voice as he stared at a distant spot in the clouds.

"Raise high our ideals... bring low our foes..."

The death knight examined his blade a moment, as though he was strongly considering what he was about to do.

"Fold their broken into our number... until all serve the Frozen Throne!"

With a swift chop, the eerie melody ceased.

Vaedra held her breath as she watched from her corner, immersed and one with the shadows. She watched as the death knight extracted his weapon from the corpse, a scowl on his marked face. She wasn't sure what had brought Thassarian here and why he had left the Skybreaker, but she wasn't about to get in his way and was secure in the knowledge that her powers would keep her hidden.

Just as the rogue thought that, however, the death knight's head suddenly perked up, like a predator that had just caught an enticing scent. His eyes hardened and he began to scan the platform in long, searing sweeps.

It was Thassarian's turn for his eyes to widen momentarily in surprise as he squinted into the darkness and found the crouching form of the woman that had escaped retribution for the part she had played aiding the Scourge. What she had done had left a foul taste in his mouth in addition to some small feelings of hopelessness from learning that someone like her would knowingly assist Arthas and his growing army. He wanted to believe in the inherent goodness in people, but how could he when it seemed everyone always acted first in their own interest?

Vaedra inhaled sharply as the death knight's dark eyes came to focus on her, his brow furrowing quickly after the shock had abated, silently mouthing a single word.

"You..."

_How did he see me? _She thought franticly, incredulous that her powers had failed her. She was a shadow, a ghost, strengthened by the Lich King's own dark energy...

During her time alone with no one but the Cultists to prey upon, Vaedra had become accustomed to her superiority: speed, magic, fortitude... all hers to wield upon lesser foes. Her own confidence had grown perhaps too much and being found so easily served as a reminder that indeed she was not all-powerful as did the death knight that was now stalking her way with a murderous stare and one gloved hand slowly pulling his other lean blade from his back.

If this wasn't a fight she could win, however, perhaps diplomacy was the best option...

The rogue rose with her hands up, trying her best to appear harmless and docile. "Please, wait a moment and let me explain-"

Vaedra was forced to dive to the side in a roll as Thassarian swung, a slice that likely would have cleaved her neck. When she righted herself, her own blades were in her hands, held up defensively in front of her.

"I don't wish to fight you!" She pleaded as the man turned and glared at her icily.

Twisting his body languidly to face her, the death knight tilted his head and spoke low and menacing. "You should have thought about that before you betrayed the Alliance."

He dove at her, swords coming down hard at the crouched woman. She flipped away, her blade coming to strike his own in a quick parry as she continued to dodge his offensive attacks.

"If you would just give me a chance, please wait!"

Thassarian looked at her hard, noticing for the first time that her eyes were purple. That was different.

"Indeed, patience is a virtue..." He began slowly. When he saw the relieved look cross the rogue's face he continued with a snarl, "One I no longer possess!"

The death knight blasted a wave of cold outward, chilling Vaedra's bones and casting a surge of dizziness over her. He followed immediately with his blades, moving impossibly fast for a man of his size, fueled by rage and his own dark gift from the Lich King.

Their swords collided, scraping together as the rogue parried and blocked every thrust and slice Thassarian threw her way. Even had she wanted to she wasn't sure she could have shifted the battle to take a more aggressive stance for he matched her stroke for stroke, driving her back towards the overhang edge.

Vaedra had her swords crossed in front with the death knight bearing down upon her, leaning his own blades heavily onto the much shorter opponent. There was no humor on his face as he gained the advantage, merely complacency that he did was he had to against the Scourge. Those that served the Lich King in life were not worthy to live it... they had free will and instead they chose to throw it away and blindingly serve an evil master? Cowards and fools; they needed to be exterminated.

Thassarian pressed his swords down, finding the female rogue to be putting up much more of a resistance than someone of her stature should have. There was no strain evident on her face as she held out against him evenly, teetering dangerously close to the side, merely a cool visage and sad eyes.

With a snarl, the death knight pushed all of his strength forward into a shove which indeed would have worked splendidly had Vaedra not suddenly vanished and reappeared behind him, the pommel of her sword crashing down onto his skull.

She could have taken a mortal stab then at the man if she had chosen to, but a large part of her didn't wish to kill him for he couldn't be blamed for what he believed, how could he possibly have known that she had no choice but to do the Lich King's bidding? At least in the beginning anyway...

Thassarian grunted, dazed by the strike to his head, whirling around and bringing his left blade slicing out as he turned.

But the woman was already gone, having leapt off the side of the fortress, down towards the ramparts below. The death knight gaped after her, watching as she almost seemed to float rather than fall, gliding through the air as if it was liquid. As she touched down and took off at a sprint, Thassarian gauged the distance as best he good before shrugging and hurling himself over.

The ground crumbled and shook beneath his feet as he connected with the stone, reaching the base just shortly after Vaedra as she apparently didn't seem to follow the same laws of gravity that he did. He fell to one knee to gain balance, glancing up to meet the stares of half a dozen Cultist alchemists working over a large, bubbling cauldron.

Ignoring them, Thassarian rose and gave chase to the rapidly fading rogue, snarling all the while, "Get back here!"

Vaedra darted up the stairs that led away from the cauldrons, peeking over her shoulder as she ran. Her eyes widened, incredulous that he had simply followed her down from such a height, her legs pumping even faster as she flew past the busy acolytes who were completely unaware of her presence.

There wasn't, however, any way to avoid noticing the tumult that was Thassarian as he kicked over one of the simmering experiments onto the torsos of the alchemists – who promptly began to thrash and scream – and stomped furiously after the woman.

The Blackguard Cultists patrolling the fortress saw the death knight running madly through their ranks and began to follow, not quite sure that they were ready to throw themselves in the way of the rampaging man but knowing they had little choice.

Vaedra kept running as she neared the split of Aldur'thar where the ramparts turned south forming the barrier that was the Desolation Gate, but stopped short as she saw the distant outline of colossal bone sentinels marching up and down the overlook. She quickly glanced around; the cultists activity would only get thicker if she continued running east deeper into the fortress and the rogue wasn't quite ready to throw all caution to the wind to escape. Easier that she simply jump... though the Valley of Fallen Heroes was a long way down.

Her mind was made up swiftly though as the death knight approached, eyes still firmly fixed on her translucent form. She jumped off.

But Thassarian wasn't about to let her use the same trick twice. Reaching the side as she fell, the death knight extended his hand, a coiling black chain of energy snapped out to seize the rogue around her abdomen, knocking the wind from her chest and pulling her violently back up and onto solid ground.

Vaedra crashed into Thassarian's unprepared form, throwing them both to the rampart floor, swords clattering uselessly to the side as they struggled against one another to gain the superior handhold. The woman jabbed her elbow down into the man's neck, desperately trying to wrap her hands around his throat as she sought for whatever means of escape she could now that she was caught.

The death knight merely grunted and with a brutal right hook his fist smashed into Vaedra's cheek before he threw her off. Thinking he had dazed the rogue and had a moment, Thassarian reached over to grab his swords hoping to catch her at a disadvantage only to find that she had already retrieved her blades as well and was waiting for him.

Just as the metal collided and they traded blows once again, the Cultists that had given chase caught up, forming a semi-circle around the two with their weapons ready, though quite unsure of who to attack. They watched, mesmerized by the whirling blades of death as the two fought, the both of them each having their own characteristics of the Scourge.

Thassarian blasted another wave of cold into the rogue, yelling out angrily as he did so. Vaedra faltered, which opened the most minute of holes in her defenses allowing his blade to scratch a shallow wound into the woman's tricep.

As superficial as it looked though, immediately Vaedra felt weakened as the vicious disease that spread with the death knight's weapons took effect. Turning sluggishly he nicked her again in the side causing a wave of nausea to wash over her, and she knew she was done for.

The Blackguard Cultist's eyes darted between the two, knuckles white as they gripped their weapons nervously, and the rogue reached for the only option she saw that she had left.

Finding a brief surge of strength, Vaedra threw herself aggressively at the death knight, if only for a moment before she cried out to the spectators.

"Come, my brothers! Help me defeat this Ebon Blade traitor!"

Their stares instantly locked onto Thassarian.

Putting as much fervor as she could muster into her next words, she called out, "For the Lich King!"

And with that, they descended upon him.

Thassarian's eyebrows shot up as the five guards all came at him at once, and in the second or two it took for the movement to register, Vaedra had slipped away from his side only to be replaced by the chaotic stabbing of the Cultists, enveloping him and blocking off any path he might have taken to get to the rogue.

"No!" He hissed as he watched her retreat and fade from view, disappearing into a random darkened alcove where he knew he could never find her.

The death knight ducked quickly to avoid a narrow slice to his head as another clinked harmlessly off his heavy armor. His swords were a blur as he blocked the incoming attacks from all sides, cursing loudly at his luck and disbelieving that she had tricked him yet again into another trap.

But Thassarian was the type who tended to look at things optimistically, and now that the rogue had escaped, he saw that he had the opportunity to rid the world of some of the Lich King's odious mortal servants.

He hated Cultists above all else.

And there _were _only five of them.

* * *

_Author's Note: I'm terribly sorry how long it took for me to get this chapter out, several weeks is quite a while for me .. I was hit with a bit of writer's block and wasn't able to put down more than a few paragraphs at a time, but I hope you all aren't disappointed with this. As always thank you to my reviewers, I greatly appreciate the feedback, any comments or criticisms are surely welcome... and I hope readers are still interested in the story despite my first fic being completed =)_


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The docks were unusually quiet, which was a pleasant change for Charles. Ordinarily there were ships coming in with supplies, civilians sailing in from Stormwind looking to aid the war effort in Borean Tundra, rowdy mercenaries tumbling about drinking up all the ale and generally disturbing the peace... but it wasn't the noise really that Charles disliked. It was the people themselves. He hated them all. Idiotic and misguided louts.

He wiped his brow with the back of his gauntleted hand as he strode slowly towards the inn, feeling horribly exposed in the bright sunlight and the fair, salty breeze. Charles knew better then to complain too much though; it was necessary for him to maintain appearances and coming across as excessively disagreeable was likely to arouse suspicion.

But he had been at Valiance Keep for many months now, waiting, watching and learning. There had been setbacks as well... such as Counselor Talbot's exposure as Prince Valanar. That particular occasion had been the most difficult, what with everyone being on edge watching for Cultists at every turn.

Charles smiled at the memory though. He was exceptional at his masquerade; no one had ever even come close to suspecting a typical, boring footman like him. As long as it was required of him, fooling the moronic members of the Alliance was a simple enough task until he could fully serve the Master in whatever manner He saw fit.

A female dwarf relaxing outside the inn near the stables took his grin as a friendly gesture and waved at the man as he passed. Charles couldn't remember her name, not that he was especially interested in knowing it, but she was responsible for stabling the animals at the keep and took it upon herself to talk to anyone who would listen.

How he hated her... with her pudgy little cheeks and her fat, stubby fingers always grabbing to touch someone as she prattled on aimlessly. Perhaps one day he would have the pleasure of cutting out her tongue or drowning her with his bare hands. That would be nice.

"A fine day, ain't it, Chuck?" She asked jovially, basking in the afternoon sun, a respite from the normally cold-tinged winds.

That was another thing he hated. Always referring to him with such familiarity as to completely change his name. Chuck wasn't even short for Charles... half the letters weren't even the same.

Swallowing his grimace, Charles gave a hearty wave in return. "Aye it is that. A bit of sun to chase away Northrend's chill!"

She chuckled and lounged against the wooden paneling of the building, stretching her short arms overhead as she enjoyed the last of her break.

Offering another departing gesture, the footman hurried away and continued his rounds.

"Hail, Chuck!"

Charles heard another voice at his back that made him want to gouge out his own eyes. He hated Dann Berman with a passion. The man was good-looking, friendly and generally well-liked by everyone stationed at Valiance Keep. The dolts all looked up to him like he was something special. He wanted to snort; what did they really know of it?

Pasting a warm expression on his face, Charles turned to greet Dann with an exuberant handshake. "Dann! How goes it?"

"Aye, well enough I suppose, well enough." Dann shrugged, though the twinkle in his eye belied his statement, implying that things were actually going quite well for him. Figured.

Charles chuckled. "Don't give me that. Spill it already, how're you and the misses?"

Dann laughed, clapping Charles hard on the shoulder. "I know I can't get anything past you, eh Chuck? Well, Bess wasn't wanting me to tell anyone just yet, but as it turns out I've got a wee one on the way!"

Oh fantastic. Children. "Why Dann, that's great news! You have my congratulations." He offered the man his hand again.

Dann took it enthusiastically. "Aye, thank you. I'm a bit nervous though, you know. I want to be able to spend some time with Bess and the baby when it comes, but Northrend is no place for a mother. Being the best father I can is going to be the most important thing here soon, and I just know..."

Charles nodded his head understandingly as Dann poured his heart out. Ugh. Why is it that people always would come to him when they wanted to yammer on endlessly about their own pointless lives and problems like he was some damned barkeep? Maybe if the timing was right he could kill Dann and send his severed head home to his wife just as the baby was born...

"... but Bess' mother may be around to help out with the baby as well, and I might be able to ask the Captain for a short leave... hmm. I'll have to think on it more. Thanks for listening, Chuck. You certainly know how to help a man sort things out!"

Charles gave a humble shrug. "That what I'm here for, Dann!"

"Don't I know it!" Dann slapped his shoulder again, smiling all the while. This was nauseating.

As the two men began to part ways, Charles called back over his shoulder. "Oh, and lay off that ale and stay out of trouble, Dann! You've got responsibilities now, you hear?"

Dann sent a goofy salute back, with an obvious spring in his step. "You got it, man. No more trouble outta me!"

A final wave ensued and the two returned to their respective paths before Charles let the disdain freely roll off of him in waves.

All of them were so wrapped up in their own existence, completely unaware of the fate that would befall them in the afterlife. Their comfort and happiness and children and money and things would be rubbish once they became undead. They all placed so much weight upon themselves, did they not recognize the immense satisfaction and glory of following a supreme Master who could wipe them all out with a mere glance? Apparently not... but they soon would.

Strolling over to the shipping logs on the dock, Charles flipped through it casually though no one paid him much mind. It was just Chuck after all, that nice, quiet man in the Alliance military.

Committing some of the entries to memory, he continued on. He hoped the Master would call for him soon.

-

It was a well-known fact that many death knights were fueled by emotion following their release from the Lich King's grasp. For some it was stronger than others, whether it be rage, vengeance, passion... for the leader of the Scourge had taken something very precious from them: their free will.

Perhaps some more keenly felt the loss to make their own choices or follow their own path than others, but regardless, the feelings that drove them now were strong and burned brightly.

But none quite so brightly as Thassarian, for he was a creature that even felt loyalty to his death knight kin while under the Lich King's hold, who's dedication to his people and love for his sister persisted through all that he had endured. And along with those strong, passionate emotions came the more destructive ones as well... the need to wipe out the Scourge, to destroy every last Cultist who followed the Lich King in life, and the annihilation of Arthas once and for all so that he, every other death knight and all those that had been ruined by the Scourge in some way could finally be at peace.

Many of the Knights of the Ebon Blade disguised their fervor with icy masks of apathy, appearing detached or maybe even indifferent to the events transpiring around them. Not so with Thassarian.

So when they saw him approaching, storming into the Shadow Vault with his fists clenched at his sides, traces of blood splashed across his face and armor, and his jaw set into an angular line of disdain, there were none who stood in his way.

Curses tumbled from his lips in abundance as he resisted the urge to kick and throw everything in sight. There were some death knights that watched, intrigued by his irrational behavior while others continued their business uninterrupted. Thassarian was somewhat of an oddity amongst the Ebon Blade for he had been the very first of them to rejoin the Alliance and despite the contempt and prejudice that met him at every turn he had been steadfast in his determination to help them in any way possible.

Most of them didn't have that kind of desire... or patience, and saw his continuous struggle against the 'living' to be foolhardy and wasteful, a pointless endeavor to try and gain their favor when a perfectly acceptable group of former Lich King servants were waiting to welcome him with open arms.

They kept those types of thoughts to themselves though mostly for his strength didn't only come from the energy that had been granted to him through becoming Scourge, his inner will and power from his former life made him a formidable foe indeed, one whom they were grateful to have on their side.

Thassarian paced the inner chamber of the Vault restlessly, unable to sit still in an attempt to diffuse some of the frustration that had followed him for the entire day. He couldn't very well return to the Skybreaker after the incident with Captain Bartlett, at least not yet. He knew that he could never be as effective as he wanted as long as the man continued to burn the Alliance's resources against the Horde and while his Ebon Blade brothers and sisters were certainly a force to be reckoned with they were often blind to some of the side effects that their actions had on others.

"Trying day?" A voice came sarcastically.

Thassarian looked up from his fierce contemplations to see Darion Mograine peering at him with a minute smirk on his face.

"You don't know the half of it." He growled back annoyed, resuming his frenzied pacing.

Mograine smiled grimly, "A life aboard the Skybreaker with the Alliance becoming too much for you?"

Thassarian narrowed his eyes before sighing and sitting down heavily against the wall. Apparently he'd be getting shit from both sides about his decision to aid the Valiance Expedition; not surprising. The subtle undertones of concern that were present in the Highlord's question unfortunately went unnoticed by the hot-headed death knight, however.

Removing his gauntlets, he dragged a hand down over his face that came away red. In disgust, he quickly wiped it against the ground, renewing his irritation.

"The Alliance are acting foolishly!" He spouted suddenly.

"No surprise there." Mograine responded coolly.

"Arthas wishes for them to fight one another and they play right into his hands!"

"Undoubtedly."

"The Cultists are there to thwart nearly everything I work towards!"

"It's to be expected."

Thassarian's hands curled back into fists. "And that traitorous woman still lives!" He cried, slamming his knuckles down into the stone unarmored.

Mograine raised a single red brow.

"Woman?"

"Yes..." Thassarian seethed, lips curled away from his teeth in a sneer. "The Lich King's newest servant, betrayer of the Alliance. The one who lured Fordring to the Cathedral of Darkness through my own folly. The one who escaped from the Vault before proper retribution could be had!"

"Ahh..." The Highlord sounded as though he was just remembering. "Her."

The death knights exchanged glances.

"She still lives, you say?" Mograine asked innocently. Thassarian was just entirely too easy to goad sometimes...

"I met her at Aldur'thar. We fought. She escaped." He looked furious again.

Darion nodded. "And how is it you are so certain that she is a traitor?"

Thassarian gaped at him. "Do you really know nothing of it? She was captured outside the Cathedral of Darkness after being seen retrieving Arthas' heart and returning it to him. I interrogated her here where she had absolutely nothing to say to defend herself. I still can't believe that I allowed her to deceive me-"

"She had nothing to say? No insane Cultist propaganda to shove in the Ebon Blade's face?"

"No, but not all Cultists-" Thassarian tried to interject.

"And what did you say she was doing at the Desolation Gate again?"

"Well, she was..." and quiet ensued as Thassarian tried to clear his head and remember what it was he had seen before the fighting had begun.

Another Cultist had been laying there, half-bloodied, before he had shown up and finished the acolyte off. And the rogue had been there hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike no doubt...

"Well, I..." he began again, not realizing how ridiculous he sounded. "I parachuted in from the Skybreaker, and she was there with another Cultist, probably in the middle of some sick ritual..."

"Oh, of course." Mograine agreed, sarcasm completely lost on the other death knight.

"The woman was there, waiting in the shadows, fleeing when I came close. As I gave chase more Cultists followed to aid her, jumping in to help her escape once they saw that the advantage was mine!" He growled at the memory.

"Did she say anything to you?"

Thassarian shook his head angrily. "Why would I believe anything she has to say now? Her filthy tongue knows nothing but lies! Attesting her innocence, bah! Just give her a moment to explain so she can stab me in the back!"

Deadly calm to the opposing man's outrage, Mograine spoke, "You are a fool." His lips were set in a tight line and Thassarian rose to meet his stare.

"What do you know of it? You were not there! You weren't the one she came to asking for help, giving out false information-"

"And do you know why you are a fool?" Darion continued, unaffected by the sputtering death knight in front of him. "Because even when the answers are right before you, you refuse to even ask the questions. You'd rather seethe and froth senselessly and hope that everything turns out all right. Becoming a death knight gives you more than just strength and fortitude, it gives you Sight... perhaps you should consider using it once in a while."

Thassarian glared at the other man, jaw set harshly. "What are you talking about? What questions?"

Mograine shook his head. "Are you so blinded by revenge? That you cannot see what is transpiring around you? There is so much more to this woman than you know, and the answers you haven't bothered to seek are so readily available..."

Thassarian snorted and rolled his eyes, "So you would send me on some grand quest to uncover a great secret or discover her true motivation? Travel Azeroth far and wide in search of a divine prophet that might enlighten me to some fantastic truth? I think I'll have to pass on that one, Highlord."

Without so much as cracking a smile, Darion shrugged. "I suppose that could work. Or you could just ask him instead." And with a minor gesture he tilted his head towards the corner of the Vault where Mathias Shaw sat relaxed, heavily engrossed in whatever it was he was currently reading.

Thassarian looked unimpressed. "That twerp? What could he possibly help me with?"

"That..." Mograine turned to look at him, "... was her mentor."

Not convinced, Thassarian scoffed, "Those Assassins are likely only here to serve their own ends, or to help the Alliance with their futile efforts against the Horde. My experience with rogues so far has been that they truly serve no one other than themselves and-"

"Yes yes," Darion interrupted waving his hand dismissively, "We're already well-aquainted with your 'experience' and how you tend to jump to all sorts of asinine conclusions before collecting any sort of semblance of facts. And while what you said may be true to a certain extent there is another very large reason why the leader of the Assassins has ventured so very far from the safety of his hold in Stormwind..."

Thassarian clenched his teeth at the abruptness of being cut off and the condescending tone his Highlord was using, but took a moment to actually consider what he had said. Glancing back over to the corner he did a brief double-take once he noticed that the rogue's chair was now empty. Ignoring Mathias' sudden absence and moving on, "He came here for her personally? But why would-"

"If you have questions for me, young man, you merely need ask me yourself."

Thassarian turned to find the diminutive rogue standing directly behind him, calmly folding his glasses and tucking them away. The death knight wasn't quite sure how he felt about being crept up on or being referred to as 'young man' by this meticulously-groomed slip of a human and was about to say so when Mathias held up a single hand.

"I know, I had my reservations as well. I desperately wanted to believe that I knew my student wholly and truly but it was difficult even for me, I can't even imagine how someone who hardly knew her and had been prey to her deception would be apt to deny her wickedness."

Despite the stark differences between the two men, Thassarian could not help but be somewhat soothed by Mathias' words and calming presence and was the most surprised of all when he heard himself say,

"What can you tell me?"

* * *

_Author's Note: Yeah, I suck =( I feel like a bad person taking this long to update, but yet again I had difficulties getting started. I hope to begin the next chapter right away though to make sure I get a jump start and can update a bit quicker. Thank you always for the reviews, comments and suggestions, I take them all very seriously and love reading them! Oh and P.S. To FirePaladin, I swear I already had this chapter planned out before you reviewed, hehehe._


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The young man sighed at the lengthy list in his hands. He was far too old to still be running errands for his grandmother, but she insisted that he was the only one that seemed to know what type of everything she preferred: inks, parchment, linen, vials, all manner of herbs, a thorium widget - what on Azeroth did she want that for? - and of course, their afternoon meal. He wasn't even certain he would make it back in time for them to have a chance to actually eat the food he purchased, but knowing his grandmother she'd probably be too engrossed in whatever project she was working on to notice.

He deftly sidestepped a petite woman over-encumbered with packages as he made his way into the perilous heart of Stormwind's Trade District, dreading the frenzied cries of people all vying for the same auction and the price-mongering merchants that would try to barter everything down to the last copper.

"Donation for Stormwind's ongoing reconstruction plan, sir? We are still in need of new roads and much more-"

"Yes, yes of course." The man replied, slipping the boy a gold piece whose eyes widened at the sight.

"Thank you! Thank you very much good sir!" He bowed before running off.

The young man smiled to himself; the child would be able to eat for a few nights now at least.

He tried to make his rounds quickly but the sun was already falling from the sky by the time his shopping was finished.

As he hefted his bags and began to cross the main square of the district he saw a small congregation of people gathered between two merchant carts, the source of some murmuring and light applause.

Slipping around behind the caravans to avoid the crowd and get a better look at what was going on, the young man saw a small girl sitting behind a crate. A tin cup sat on the corner of the box for tips while a multitude of cards were scattered on top as she awed the onlookers with some basic tricks.

The child was a bit ragged and dirty but had a charming smile and rosy cheeks that seemed to melt the hearts of the older generation of Stormwind citizens.

"Oh no, sir!" The young man heard her say, dark curls bouncing as she shook her head. "This money isn't for me! It's for my mum... she's always wanted to start her own flower shop, so I wanted to help."

The older gentlemen and his family that the girl was currently entertaining all smiled appreciatively at her generosity but also at her naivety, knowing a few extra silver here and there would hardly be enough to begin a successful business. But she was adorable, so it didn't matter all that much.

"All right, sir!" The girl hopped up onto her crate after gathering up all the cards and fanning them out in front of her. "If you would select a card, any one at all. Whichever you like! Now you're allowed to show it to all of them, but not to me."

With a warm smile, the elder man pulled a random card from the deck and discreetly showed it around to everyone in the crowd, cupping his hand around it with a pretend devious look.

"Make sure you remember it now!" The girl giggled, indicating that the man should return his card into the deck.

"Oh, well now, I suppose you're going to shuffle that deck and make my card disappear, is that it?" He chuckled, having seen the simple feat before.

"Why, no sir!" She admonished, handing the deck over to him. "I would like you to find the card that you just put back in the deck is all."

The young man continued to watch in great interest as the gentlemen confusedly began searching the deck. After a moment his brow furrowed when he came up empty.

"I just put it in here a moment ago..."

"Hmm..." the girl held a finger to her lips as though she was thinking. "Ah! I think I might know where it is now!"

She reached up to the old man and withdrew the missing card from his coat pocket with a flourish for the whole crowd to see.

"Haha! Very good!" Delighted laughter erupted followed by soft clapping, and a few spectators deposited some minor coinage into the little tin cup.

The young man's lips grew wider as he thoughtfully stroked his thin, brown mustache.

_My, what a clever little thief you are... _He mused to himself, watching the crowd diffuse and the girl beginning to pick up her meager belongings. Turning the metal cup over into her hand and placing the few silver and copper pieces she had earned into her pocket, the girl began to skip away and fade into the crowd.

More than just slightly interested now, the young man opted to follow, only half-expecting the young scoundrel to head towards the orphanage in the Cathedral District and wasn't disappointed when she instead ducked away from the bustle of the merchants and tradesman and entered the Old Town part of Stormwind.

It was definitely a more shady part of the city and no place for a lone, wandering child to be as night fell, but he stayed a fair distance away and kept his eyes peeled on her bobbing, dark-haired head.

Only when she was safely away from the Trade District and was certain there was no one actively watching her did the girl take a moment to revel in the true payment she had received that day. She pulled the gold pocket watch she had lifted from the old gentleman's coat from her pocket, marveling at it's beauty... and potential value. It was always so easy... people were so easily distracted and would look at whatever you wanted them to if you were entertaining enough.

She wanted to feel guilty for the things she had taken, but she did need to survive. She saw it every day, the wealthy mages and aristocrats of the city flaunting their fine clothes and things, living to excess as others around them suffered and begged and had nothing to call their own. Was it impossible for everything to be shared equally amongst the people who all lived in the same city? She didn't understand it, and felt that it was more necessity than greed that forced her to utilize her particular talents...

"That was quite the trick back there!" A voice came suddenly, interrupting the girl's thoughts.

She turned abruptly with a gasp, clutching the watch to her chest between her hands trying to hide it as she faced the stranger.

He looked friendly enough, not especially large with kind brown eyes and a finely-trimmed goatee, but she knew better than to trust just anyone, especially on a dark, quiet street in Old Town as evening approached.

The man chuckled a bit at the girl's suspicious stare, lifting his parcels momentarily. "Don't worry, little one. Even if I did mean to rob you, my hands are already quite full."

She wanted to smile at his comment, loosening her grip on the trinket she held just slightly. "I'm very good at card tricks." She answered back innocently.

He nodded without even a hint of appearing condescending, "I can tell. I bet you're good at a lot of things."

She nodded back, not quite certain what he meant by that.

Offering the girl another warm grin, "I'm Mathias."

"I'm..." would it be that bad if this man knew her name? He seemed nice, perhaps he really had just liked watching her little show in the market.

"I'm Vaedra."

"Nice to meet you, Vaedra."

"You too, Mathias..." she chewed her lower lip nervously. "Well um, it was nice talking to you but I should really be getting home... mum wouldn't like me out so late."

"Ah yes, of course. I heard earlier that you said you were going to help her open her own flower shop. Tell me, what _is _her favorite flower?" Mathias asked brightly.

Vaedra nearly stammered. She hadn't quite thought about that. "Well um..." she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "She really likes peacebloom."

The man laughed inwardly at the girl's choice of an overly common plant that was more of a weed than anything else. _Quite the little liar as well..._

"Absolutely, me too! Well Vaedra, I'm certain your mother will have a nice head start on that flower shop with that expensive watch you found. I'll be sure to drop by with some peacebloom."

Panic rose in the girl's throat and the urge to flee grew stronger as the astute man wrapped her up in her own web of lies. How had he even done that?

"Look, sir, I don't want any trouble," she took a few steps back. "I lied, okay? I don't have any family so please don't turn me in. I'll give it back all right?"

Mathias shook his head. "It's all right little one. No one's in trouble. I just want to make sure you're safe... why don't you let me take you back to the orphanage so they don't start to worry-"

"No!" The girl cried, making the rogue raise a brow. "Please don't send me back there!"

"Why ever not?" The man asked. "Surely it's better then living on the streets..."

"Trust me, it's not." Vaedra replied with all the conviction of an eight year old, shuddering a bit.

It was getting rather dark at this point and Mathias knew that there would be scum wandering about soon, plus the girl had already shown some remarkable skill.

"Well then, how would you feel about coming home with me?"

Vaedra narrowed her eyes, thinking that this man was entirely too curious if he just wanted to 'help' her.

He chuckled, flashing his white teeth. "I know how it sounds, but I live in a special place, a place for people like you. If nothing else it's warm, has food and will put a roof over your head for the night... but I can completely understand if that's not something you're interested in..." No answer. "Very well! Should we meet again, young Vaedra, let me know if you've changed your mind, you will always be welcome."

And tipping his imaginary hat, Mathias turned and began to head back to SI:7.

_People like me? _Vaedra wondered, as the man turned to leave. He hadn't pressed the issue any further, perhaps he really was being honestly kind... maybe she could just take a peek?

At a moderate pace, Mathias walked the streets and alleyways, smiling to himself when he detected the distinct light patter of feet trailing some ten yards behind him, just as he had suspected he would.

The girl followed the rogue through the Old Town, hiding behind a crate as he climbed some stone steps and disappeared inside an unmarked doorway. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, Vaedra counted to ten before creeping along the street and peering around the corner.

All was quiet as she came around to another doorway covered with a portcullis, looking into a small courtyard-like area, open to the night sky and filled with small, narrow slits between the stones. The man was nowhere to be found. On the other side of the clearing was yet another arched opening, seemingly innocuous and emitting soft candlelight.

She moved as quietly as she could, holding her breath as she transversed the exposed space and took her first step inside SI:7.

Floorboards creaked noisily under the girl's feet and she looked around nervously as the sound was made, but there was no one there. The very air itself seemed to breathe as Vaedra's eyes passed over the artwork and tapestries adorning the walls wondering what sort of place she had wandered into.

People like her... what did that even mean? Mathias didn't know her, and this place with living shadows was giving her the creeps, perhaps it had been a mistake to come after all...

As she turned to run from the building as fast as she could a figure darkened the archway, obscuring the moonlight pouring down into the front courtyard.

The girl gasped as her eyes adjusted and she recognized the young man from before.

"Vaedra!" He cried cheerily. "I'm so happy you decided to come after all. Would you like to warm yourself by the fire? No? Very well, I was just about to fix myself something to eat and was wondering if perhaps you would like to join me."

The dark-haired girl hovered close to the exit, looking ready to bolt in an instant as Mathias began unpacking his bags, chatting pleasantly all the while.

"It's no problem at all if you're not hungry, though I usually tend to buy entirely too much..."

The man sat down at the table and the smell of fresh bread, fine cheese and milk came to Vaedra's nose, making her mouth water and her stomach growl. Perhaps she could just have a bite, she hadn't eaten in so long it seemed...

She crept ever so slowly over to the chair across from Mathias who had fixed himself a sandwich and just taken an enormous bite out of it. As the girl arrived next to the chair he looked up as though he had just noticed her again, gesturing to the food and chair.

"Sit down, dear, have some. There's plenty!" He encouraged with his mouth full.

She giggled as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand and grinned at her. Daring to take a small piece of bread she began to nibble at it until Mathias ripped off a large hunk of everything and placed it in front of her.

"Have as much as you like."

Vaedra tore into it, not having realized how hungry she really was.

"Whoa, slow down there. I know we need it to survive but it tastes pretty good too you know." Mathias commented on her voracious eating.

Blushing sheepishly, the girl stopped shoving more into her mouth and concentrated on chewing.

"So how long have you lived in Stormwind?" The rogue asked casually.

"A little while." Vaedra responded immediately, only half paying attention. "Since the paladin brought me here."

"Oh?" Mathias asked in between bites, reaching for more. "Which paladin was that?"

"Rellek, he was nice. He promised to let me feed his horse sometime."

"Well, that _is _nice." He responded truthfully, curious to know more but not wanting to press too hard. She'd only stay distracted by food for so long...

"Did your mum and dad know Rellek?"

Vaedra shook her head then shrugged. "No. Well, I don't know. I never met my mum, she died when I was born. My da left when I was _really _little, five I think. I went to live with gramma."

"So your gramma knew Rellek?" Mathias reasoned.

The girl shook her head again. "No, she never got to meet him either..." A short pause was followed by a sniffle. "I came in from playing one day and she wouldn't wake up. After a little while I started walking looking for help and that's when I found Rellek. He brought me to Stormwind."

"To the orphanage." He offered, trying to keep the story going.

She nodded while chewing with her mouth open. "He said I would be safe there and I guess I was... but I didn't like it. Miss Caylie was mean. The boys were mean. Mr. Reynalt, he was _really _mean. Milly was nice though. I told her I was running away and she helped, even gave me a silver piece she'd been saving."

"And that's when you started doing card tricks..."

Vaedra's hand subconsciously drifted to her pocket where the watch lay nestled, looking warily at the man with the genuinely curious expression.

"Yes..."

Looking as though she had just remembered something else, she began again, more animated. "Milly had been showing me how to do some tricks with cards and I had been getting really good, but Mr. Reynalt found out about it, he said we weren't allowed to anymore. But I really liked it and getting in trouble with Mr. Reynalt was bad news..."

Mathias raised a brow.

The girl nodded. "Oh yeah. He'd take kids into his office when they were bad all the time and do things to them. They never liked talking about it though."

"Understandably..." the man said with a growing frown. Vaedra looked at him curiously and he quickly brightened his expression. "Well, little one, you're welcome to stay here as long as you like. I can show you a place where you can sleep in a warm bed and perhaps if you decide to stay I can show you a few 'card tricks' of my own."

She perked up at that, but then bit her lip so as not to look too excited. "I'd like that... maybe I'll just stay a little while..."

Mathias smiled knowingly.

Later than evening, Mr. Reynalt, head of the Stormwind Orphanage, met with an unfortunate accident on his way home from the pub. It seemed someone had attempted to rob him and he had put up a fight instead of just handing the money over, ending up with a knife through his heart. Very tragic.

-

"That was only the beginning," Mathias continued. "Tragedy seemed to follow her from her very birth; she was lost in the world with no where to go and a natural talent for things less than savory in normal society."

When he took a moment to pause, all was quiet around them... Thassarian hadn't so much as peeped.

"But she grew up of course, and after the end of the Third War the night elves emerged into our world, and one in particular caught her fancy."

"Another rogue, named Tayvan... I suppose I disliked him from the beginning but he seemed to make Vaedra so happy." Mathias curled his hand into a fist as he remembered.

He told them of how she had fallen in love, and the night elf that had stolen her innocence in more ways than one. Her first semi-dangerous mission against the Defias and how things had all gone horribly awry...

"I am entirely responsible for what happened to her. I knew Tayvan wasn't all that he claimed to be, but I sent her out there with him anyway, praying that they could just keep their distance and gather information from afar." A drop of wetness dotted Mathias' brown eyes and he quickly blinked it away. "She was never the same after that, and that incident was just the first of my failures... she was sixteen when all that happened."

"I tried desperately to be there for her after that, but she was single-minded on her training, becoming the best at everything she could, doing exercises until her finger's bled... I could only imagine that she sought to find purpose once again for her heart had been broken so severely and her spirit damaged in a way that could not be repaired by a mentor's kind words. But she excelled and became one of the most elite of us, until she left."

"She continued working for the Assassins, but doing so by moving from place to place, never making friends, always focused completely on her mission and what she needed to do to accomplish it. Until one day a few months ago when the message came that she had abandoned her post and disobeyed orders while in Northrend. I didn't know what to think... until she showed up back at SI:7 to kill me."

Thassarian's face twisted in confusion. "You? Her teacher and friend?"

Mathias nodded, index finger scratching at the bottom of his chin. "Indeed. I was just as perplexed by it and she refused to say for whom she was working or why she had been sent. It had been years since we had seen one another and the look of sadness she gave me as our blades came together told me all that I needed to know."

The death knight swallowed hard with sudden realization. "She was coerced."

Mathias nodded.

"But what did he threaten her with?" Thassarian asked. "If she had no family left, no friends save you... how can we know that she simply had given up and fallen to the sway of the Cultists, lured by their promises of immortality and power?"

"Arthas has many means of persuasion as you no doubt know," Mograine interjected after listening quietly. "And he enjoys using our own resources against us whenever possible, would it be so far-fetched to believe that he would take a champion of the Alliance and mold them into the ideal servant? He created an item of vast power for her to wield against the Argent Crusade, Fordring specifically. And instead she used it to strike down a corrupt paladin, leaving the sword behind and sending the Lich King fleeing from the battle. I know not how but she has broken free of him and now works against him, desperately seeking... something." Aware of his long dialogue and conscious of his brightly glowing eyes, Darion pulled the hood of his cowl lower over his face.

Thassarian covered his mouth with his hand for a moment before he turned away, exacerbated. "How can you know that? Have you spoken with her?"

"No." Mograine said harshly, more than annoyed with the other death knight's supposed short-sightedness. "I have seen it. My gift of Sight is strong and has shown me a great deal of different things... but perhaps I should not be so hard on you. I suppose instead of that particular power you've retained some of your other less... subtle attributes." He smirked at him condescendingly.

With a derisive snort, Thassarian looked away to collect his thoughts.

Keritose Bloodblade tilted his head closer as the three men drew quiet, straining to hear if anything else was said. They had been speaking for some time, and the blood elf had been intrigued when Thassarian had left his usual position on the Skybreaker to come storming into the Vault.

The death knight had served the Ebon Blade since the battle at Light's Hope Chapel after the Lich King's hold had fallen away, but it had been more out of the need to survive that he had abandoned his King. Rejoining the Horde simply wasn't an option for the blood elf, there was entirely too much contempt to face on that end... and work. No, it was most convenient to stay with the Ebon Blade despite not harboring the same feelings of revenge that they did for now until the opportunity presented itself. And the conversation that he had just overheard may have been the very thing he had been hoping for...

Could he return to the Lich King with details of his escaped pet? Providing information of the defenses of the Shadow Vault was always something he considered bringing to Arthas' attention when the time was right, this could be the chance he needed to restore favor and possibly gain some new power as well.

He needed to act quickly though, it would not be prudent for him to wait too long and bring old news to the Lich King's attention... Moving quietly, Keritose discreetly slipped away.

"Well..." Thassarian said finally. "I need to remedy this. When I saw her there I didn't allow her to speak and attacked without provocation..." When he noticed the other two men looking at him intently he quickly justified, "If she is moving to work against the Cultists she could prove to be a valuable ally, of course."

They nodded, but Mograine and Mathias exchanged a quick glance, laughing internally at the thought of Thassarian going to apologize.

Seeing their amused looks, he scoffed and stomped away, very much in the same manner in which he had come.

* * *

_Author's Note: I did good this time, see? ^.^ Thanks as always to my reviewers! Some of you asked some very good qu__estions that I would looove to answer but I don't want to give anything away, so all I can say for now is that they will be addressed and to keep reading!_


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Bury it in the vault, I don't want to see that thing again."

The man nodded as Tirion Fordring handed over a large, wrapped bundle. The paladin shot the package a final look of disgust before moving away and the blond woman dressed in the raiments of the Kirin Tor fell into stride next to him.

"Highlord, I beg you to reconsider-"

"Absolutely not. It's out of the question."

"I could bring it to Dalaran where the safety of your Crusaders would not be in question and we could perform tests-"

"I said no, Rhydian. This is not the Kirin Tor's affair, and it is entirely too dangerous."

The female sorceress huffed as the pair walked across what once had been Scourgeholme, the sights and sounds of construction raging around them as the building of "Justice Keep" - as Tirion liked to call it - had recently begun.

The foundation for the glorious new structure had already been laid, but not before Tirion had ordered that beneath the surface a nigh impenetrable hold be built in place of the typical dungeon. He wanted to send the message that this keep represented something new, a symbol that the Argent Crusade would be taking no prisoners in the fights ahead, that they would not bend knee or have any mercy for those that would serve the Lich King even in life.

And it was certainly a nice message that uplifted the Crusader's of Virtue's spirits, but truthfully more than anything he wanted a safe place to hide away the sword that had been left behind during the Battle at Crusader's Pinnacle. The paladin had enlisted some of the finest dwarven engineers to ensure that the new vault would be able to stand up to anything, and seeing the titanium-reinforced door that sealed in fifteen solid feet of magically-imbued stone, one might think that he was being a bit overly paranoid.

Already the walls had begun to take shape and Fordring watched with pride and hope in his heart that the former darkness he had felt those some odd weeks ago had abated. Whatever Arthas had been planning during his assault against the Argent Crusade had been apparently unsuccessful and the previously constant attacks from Scourgeholme had stopped entirely.

How could he have refused the chance to purify the entire area? Every indication thus far had shown the Lich King retreating into Icecrown, moving hurriedly to protect his remaining forces as he was closed in on from all sides.

Yes, things were going very well indeed.

Unfortunately though, the evil sword that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere had proven to be a continuous problem for it was an item of great power... and interest. The woman next to him had been relentless in her efforts to study the item, subtly hinting that he was acting foolishly for not taking advantage of something to further their knowledge of the Lich King's power and designs.

Tirion certainly understood her position, but felt it entirely too risky. He had experienced the darkness within Arthas' heart before, who was to say that this weapon didn't contain that same evil tenfold? It had arrived under such suspicious circumstances as well, he didn't ignore the idea either that it could have been planted so that they would fall into some trap when they inevitably looked too deeply...

No, better that it be locked away from anyone who sought to use it in aid of the Lich King, or from those that would misguidedly take it up thinking to use it against him.

Rhydian watched sadly as the man carried the precious bundle to seal it away below; turning her attention back to Fordring she furrowed her brow and opened her mouth in an attempt to intercede again when Tirion held up one hand.

"The matter is closed, Rhydian. I know you disagree, and you may bring it up with your superiors in Dalaran if you like, but know that you probably would only be making it easier for me. After all, this war will likely already be over by the time the Kirin Tor could sort through all of the bureaucracy that they seem so fond of in deciding what to do."

Leaving the mage with an indignant scowl on her face, Fordring strolled away.

-

"Well, isn't this interesting..."

The Lich King watched through the eyes of his undead patrolling outside of Icecrown Citadel as a lone blood elf death knight practically marched up to the front gates of his domain. He stayed his frost wyrms and guards, looking on with interest as the death knight landed on his skeletal gryphon and looked up at the fortress in awe.

It wasn't unheard of for some of those that had joined the Ebon Blade once their will had been regained to seek out their former Master. Indeed it was shocking to them that the Lich King had used them as fodder to draw out Tirion Fordring, sending them to their deaths after all of their training and service, but it was the nature of the Scourge, to dispose of minions as was necessary. And some of them understood that, embraced it even.

For Keritose, however, it was more that he felt that serving the Lich King now would be more advantageous in the end, a possible means to greater power... and when the ashes cleared he firmly believed that he would be on the winning side.

So as he stood there, staring up into the terrible and formidable Citadel with gargoyles screeching overhead at the command of their Master, he couldn't have known that the Lich King stood watching him with a small smirk on his face.

"Bring him to me."

The death knight was dragged inside rather unceremoniously, shoved and prodded forward until he was pushed down to the floor directly in front of the Lich King himself.

With a dismissive nod from their Master, the heavily armed guards departed leaving Keritose face-first in the ground with only a view of the skull-adorned armor and the tip of Frostmourne before him. Tremors took him.

"My lord I-"

"So you have come to rejoin the Scourge, I take it?" The Lich King rumbled, his amused expression hidden beneath the heavy helm.

"Yes..." he nodded numbly. "If that is my King's will of course..."

The Lich King stared down at the death knight with an air of indifference. _Pitiful weakling... only concerned with saving his own worthless skin._

"I always will welcome home my lost children with open arms..."

Keritose nodded again, more eagerly, finally pushing himself up to his knees. "I have some information that you may find useful, my lord, if you would be interested in hearing it."

"Indeed?" The Lich King asked, sounding bored and beginning to slowly circle the death knight groveling on the ground before him. "And what is it that you would want in exchange for this information?"

The blood elf's eyes followed his Master's movements around him until the dark figure was out of his field of vision. He swallowed nervously. "My King?"

"Of course you would expect some kind of compensation for providing me with such instrumental details. It would not really be worth my time otherwise, now would it?"

Keritose's voice caught in his throat. Was it a trick question? Or should he really ask for what he desired in return?

"I..." his hands fidgeted with his collar. "I... cannot begin to comprehend my King's designs and therefore have no way of knowing what information would be of value to him or not. And I trust in him wholly to reward those that he deems worthy of receiving recompense."

The blood elf heard a low chuckle from behind him, but he dare not turn around.

"Well spoken." The Lich King complimented mockingly. "I shall hear what you have to say then, and then deem you worthy afterwards."

And the death knight told him everything he had heard. Every word.

He spoke quickly, trying to keep his voice from shaking, unable to see his Master's reaction to his words for he hadn't moved from standing behind him. And when he finished, there was a long, drawn-out silence.

When it seemed that nothing would be said or done at all and Keritose was itching to glance over his shoulder, a quiet voice came.

"Are you certain you heard everything correctly?"

"My King?" He asked, beginning to turn his head.

"Are you certain?!" The Lich King bellowed.

Before the blood elf could respond something devastatingly heavy crashed into his back and pinned him to the floor.

Crying out and writhing in pain, Keritose squealed, "Yes! Yes my lord! I am certain!"

The Lich King stood over him, armored boot firmly planted against the death knight's spine, considering the possibilities of his words.

So she did yet remain in Icecrown, working to sabotage the Cult of the Damned, just as he had predicted. Amusing, really. That she pretended like she could make a difference, trying to prove that he hadn't corrupted her, that she could work to be 'good' and change the world. But not only that, the story of her past had been most intriguing indeed...

Keritose groaned, bringing his Master back to the present situation. Lifting his foot off the blood elf's back and stepping away, he spoke.

"You have done well by bringing this to my attention. I can see that you would be a valuable asset to the Scourge once again."

The death knight whimpered in pain. "Thank you, my lord."

"Yes," the Lich King speculated. "There are many places in my ranks that you would fit in rather nicely. One can never _truly _outlive their usefulness as long as they continue to exist, for even in their various states of undeath can they remain as loyal servants."

Keritose didn't like where this seemed to be going. His lip trembled, "My lord, I-"

Kneeling down before the blood elf, the Lich King grabbed him by his gaunt cheeks, staring into the death knight's glowing blue eyes with a wicked look.

"You have my undying gratitude for bringing me this information," he started with a smirk, beginning to squeeze. "However, I'm afraid that I cannot allow someone such as yourself who so frivolously changes sides depending upon what is more advantageous to them at the time freely wandering about as one of my Chosen. You betrayed the Ebon Blade to come to me after once already departing my service? That is not a very reassuring track record, Keritose."

The blood elf's eyes bulged as the gauntlet began to crush his jaw. He tried to scream.

"Don't worry," the Lich King smiled down at him. "You will continue to serve me, perhaps just not in the manner in which you expected..."

Tilting his head back with his eyes closed and taking a deep, shuddering breath, the Lich King focused on draining the death knight's energy.

Keritose's body thrashed wildly, oblivious now to the pain in his back and face. His Master began to leech away his power, the very power that had been granted to him upon the moment of his 'rebirth'. His impulses told him to struggle, to scream, to stop him, but as the darkness began to seep through his mind, memories fading away, experiences sucked dry, his very will being drained, there was little else he could do but submit.

The blue eyes leaked away into nothingness, mouth open in a soundless cry, and before long he was nothing but a fleshy shell of his former self.

Tossing the former death knight's face aside and rising, the Lich King shooed the ghoul away. And it complied.

Perhaps there was a way after all for him to get what he wanted and his revenge... _everything_... all at once. He couldn't permit her to go free, not after what she did. He had underestimated her in the beginning, and then she had done the unthinkable: taken something from _him_. Now he would take something from her.

Striding purposefully through the halls of Icecrown Citadel, the Lich King came to a room of portals, where he summoned for Kel'thuzad.

The lich's glassy image appeared, respectfully poised but none too eager to hear his Master's instructions after the last time they had spoken.

"There has been a change of plans..." the Lich King began, and he thought he saw Kel'thuzad sigh with relief.

"Oh, that is excellent news, my lord. I do believe it is the right decision to leave Naxxaramas in Dragonblight and I might also suggest that-"

"No," the Lich King growled. "_My_ citadel shall come to Icecrown as planned. _You_, however..." he let the words hang in the air a moment. "I have a special assignment in mind for you."

The lich tried to hide his grimace with a deep bow.

"Don't look too excited now," his Master commented sarcastically, though his countenance was dead serious. "As before, I extend to you the same offer to store your phylactery in Icecrown Citadel for the duration of your task and for as long afterwards as you like."

Kel'thuzad nodded, silently cursing that his Master hadn't forgotten about that particular conversation. "Of course, my lord. What is it you wish of me?"

The Lich King shook his head dismissively. "I will fill you in on the details later. For now, I want you to send Baron Rivendare to me. In your absence he will be acting in your stead as my lead advisor and guardian of Naxxaramas."

The necromancer resisted the urge to curl his skeletal fingers into fists, incredulous of what he was hearing. "As you will, my lord." He murmured obediently, before the image winked out.

-

"_It was my understanding... that a good rogue never allowed herself to be caught." _

"_I know what you've done... you 'rescued' my heart in the physical sense, thinking to liberate it in the metaphorical sense as well. You thought that maybe within this twisted object lay remnants of Arthas' humanity that you could find... and use."_

"_No one controls me!"_

"_Mine..."_

_Pathetic needs... infuriating feelings... maddening desires..._

The memories bubbled through him like ripples, spiraling outward and clashing together with no semblance of pattern or reason. It wasn't as though he thought back on them with fondness or longing or disgust... they were simply _there_: present, insisting, perpetual. Strung together like scattered thoughts of one whose mind was unconsciously piecing things together, making you believe that there was a hidden meaning behind it all. But there really wasn't.

Screeching of metal, the murmuring of her voice, the endless drone of undead... crescendoing until it was nearly unbearable. When had he lost so much control?

Resisting the urge to clamp his hands over his ears, the cacophony suddenly ceased with the arrival of Baron Rivendare in the Lich King's throne room.

Both thankful and annoyed at the interruption, the death knight was beckoned forth with one disinterested finger.

A dark blue scarf partially covered the aristocratic, pale face of the Baron who strode forward in his death-runed armor with perfect posture and terrible elegance. His cape lightly brushed the ground as he walked, arriving before his King with a flawless, sweeping bow.

"You summoned for me, my lord?" He asked unnecessarily, his voice sounding like a harsh, grating whisper.

"Rivendare..." the Lich King began tiredly. "Good to see that you haven't lost your flair for the theatrical."

"My lord!" The death knight admonished. "I am only giving my King the proper respect that he deserves, it would be unseemly for me to not-"

"We are not in court, _Baron._" He hissed, emphasizing the title condescendingly.

Rivendare tossed his cape over his shoulder with a flourish as his gaze swept across the nearly-empty chamber with but a few scarce skeletal guards watching over the entrance. A small smile tugged at his pallid lips beneath his carefully-tied scarf as he pondered over the fact that his Master chose to entertain his 'subjects' from a throne. "Of course, my lord. Whatever you desire."

Unlike the majority of his death knight counterparts who had a complete disregard for their appearance allowing grime, insects and bits of gore to tarnish their morbid visage, the Baron was a picture of lurid perfection. His armor was immaculately kept and polished, his cloak and scarf of the finest material free of wrinkles or wear. He straightened the imaginary cuffs at his wrists before standing patiently at attention for his Master's bidding.

"I am leaving it to you to see that the final preparations are made for Naxxaramas' move."

"My lord?" Rivendare asked, perplexed. "What move is it that you are referring to?"

The Lich King raised a snowy brow. "Did Kel'thuzad not inform you? You are to be guardian of the citadel for the time being, and you shall be responsible for its movement and position here in Icecrown."

The Baron clapped his hands together once. "My lord I do believe that is a most excellent idea. Shall I mobilize the undead beneath the citadel in the Carrion Fields as well?"

"No, I have something else in mind for them. For now, you will be reinforcing Mord'rethar and doing what you can to repel the Horde and Alliance attacks. Don't fail me."

"I wouldn't dream of it, my lord." Rivendare smiled.

-

If it truly could have been called a wasteland before, it was even more truthful of a statement now.

Dragonblight was a graveyard: the bones of ancient wyrms, the fresh corpses of the Wyrmrest Accord as they persisted in their struggle against Malygos, the destruction that had swept across Wintergarde Keep... and the newly risen undead that had awoken from said destruction.

The Forsaken at Venomspite were currently occupied with the arrival of the Scarlet Onslaught that had chosen to dock practically at their doorstep.

And so, as it was, there was very little notice the next morning as the skies of Northrend were alight with dancing colors and gas as celestial wind collided with Azeroth's atmosphere that the horizon was clear of the ghastly dread citadel that had marred it's surface for many months; the fields below eerily quiet.

A lone carrion bird swooped out of the sky to peck at the eye of a long dead ghoul, searching for any bit of edible meat beneath the rotting flesh.

A different dark figure dotted the white background as the wind howled out an ominous tune.

* * *

_Author's Note: I'm excited to introduce Rivendare in this chapter since he has been such a prominent NPC since pre-BC WoW. I kind of had a slightly different vision of him than I originally anticipated, but I like how he turned out and expect to see more of him, hehe. Let me know what you all think and thank you as always for the reviews and comments =)_


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Frigid wind bit at the rogue's cheeks. Wintergarde Keep lay in ruins just as she had left it, the 7th Legion almost completely wiped out in a matter of hours... because of her. All of their efforts and work and blood had been for nothing in the end because she had ruthlessly murdered their leader and left them vulnerable simply because that is what the Lich King had bade her do. Best not to think on that now though...

Naxxaramas was decidedly absent from the landscape as Vaedra gazed out to the east, and that worried her. All of the Lich King's movements since her departure had been rather erratic: leaving Scourgeholme open and defenseless, the Cultists redoubling their efforts to create new and different servants and experiments, and now this.

Landing her drake amidst the ruins of the keep and fallen towers, Vaedra dismounted and let her eyes freely wander across the wreckage. Her hand drifted to the pouch on her belt where she withdrew a purple gem; a sphere with swirling images and a glassy surface, the violet hue matching the color of her darkened eyes.

She ran a leather thumb across the object's shell, almost lovingly, rolling it between her fingers very much in the same manner in which the Lich King had when it had been in his possession.

The soul was supposed to be an intangible concept, something that was believed in or thought of, but never touched or real. But she had been forced to face it, and have it taken from her, and stare at all of her flaws and shortcomings directly. No one should have to go through that... though she likely deserved it.

It was surprising to her that the orb hadn't gone black when the Lich King had chosen to imbue Vaedra with some of his power, further tainting her in the ways of darkness. Perhaps it was more resilient that one might think, or that she had an inner strength that defied how cowardly she nearly always felt. Unlikely.

The object glowed just as brightly as the day it had been created, drawn from her chest by Frostmourne through some means of magic that she would likely never understand. And even now that it was hers again, she was obligated to hold it so that it remain safe and untouched from those that would seek to manipulate her again. It was a weakness. One that needed to be hidden.

Moving carefully, the rogue picked her way through the remnants of the dilapidated barracks, tossing over rocks and planks as she moved deeper inside. Her fist was clenched tightly around the sphere and it made her heart shudder, thinking back at the memories associated with such an action.

Unimaginable pain and incomprehensible pleasure both emanated from the hand of her former Master as he gripped the orb in his armored glove, wracking her body with convulsions as he filled it with anger and hatred then seamlessly switching to euphoric tingles as he filled her with his energy.

Not for the first time did she let her thoughts wander in that direction, remembering their unconventional and twisted encounter the final time she had returned to Icecrown Citadel, secretly wishing that it hadn't been. It had been... refreshing, despite her deception, to let him take control like that so she could pretend for a time that she didn't have all those demons welling within her constantly pressing against her chest. That all of her silly, mortal concerns were meaningless in the large scheme of things and that she was better off allowing them to roll off and let her fate lie in the hands of a greater being.

Was that what it felt like to have faith in something? To have religion? Smiling to herself at the thought of the fervent gleam that would sometimes enter a paladin's eye when someone spoke of the Light and the way they would charge about desperately when they needed to heed it's call... she supposed in a way it was.

Leaning heavily on a fallen ceiling rafter, Vaedra tossed the board aside, bits and pieces of rubble and dust falling to the ground as she did so. The stairs leading down to the Keep's dungeon were still in tact.

The air was still as she descended below, a putrescent smell emanating from some poor soul who had likely been forgotten when all the fighting began. That day had been horrible and eye-opening for Vaedra, allowing her to fully see first hand the consequences of her cowardice... and then the Lich King had offered her unfathomable power, an opportunity that couldn't be passed. And everything changed.

What better place to store the orb of her soul, the key to unlocked memories and secrets of her past then Wintergarde Keep which had elicited the painful truth, her inability to sacrifice herself for a 'noble' cause, preferring to prevail despite all the evils she would be forced to commit. This place had brought out that ugliness and made it unavoidably apparent.

The orb was a beautiful thing, strange that it did not reflect the perversity she felt inside.

A partially-decomposed body lie in a corner of one of the locked cell doors, though the smell of death no longer bothered Vaedra like it used to. Biology saw to it that if one was around an offensive odor for too long that you would eventually adjust, like it wasn't even there.

The rogue searched the dungeon for a loose rock, or a crevice in the stone. There was a large crack in the mortar on the far wall, and as she crossed the room to reach it, she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder, irrationally paranoid that she was still being watched. Tucking the sphere deep inside the wall where no one would hopefully ever think to look for such a thing, she departed.

As she emerged from the wreckage, Vaedra heard the lonely squawking of a single carrion bird, and the air seemed to carry just a bit more of a chill. She ran her hands across her leather-clad arms for warmth, though it didn't seem to help any and she feared there was little that would be able to fight it off soon enough.

Remounting her drake, Vaedra looked to the north. Regardless, there was much still to do.

-

"How is it that I always find my way back to Icecrown..." she quietly asked herself, looking over the fortress atop Aldur'thar.

Alumeth the Ascended continued to grow in power daily; Cultists worked fervently to imbue his soul with energy so that he could grow into a vastly superior being than his once mortal self, but it couldn't be permitted to continue. Destroying his corporeal self was enough to stave the Cultist off for a time, but Vaedra knew it was no permanent solution.

She didn't know much about the process that had been used to elevate a normal man to such a level of power, only that he had sacrificed himself in some sort of dark ritual that bound his soul to a large crystal in the rear of the fortress. The rogue had tried already destroying the crystal outright but hadn't been able to get the thing to budge, let alone put a crack in it with her blades.

No, there had to be _something, _that was tying him to the crystal, for it was his robes, scepter, heart and skull that drew him forth for his body to be destroyed. She needed to venture deeper into the Cultist hold than she'd ever dared to find out more.

In the main chamber, researchers worked over tables filled with books and potions, and the nearly invisible rogue was able to sneak past them without detection. But going deeper within Aldur'thar revealed the narrower corridors, the personal quarters and things of unspeakable horror that she'd rather not think on.

Vaedra held her breath as she moved, flattening herself against the wall as two guards came strolling down the hallway with mirthless faces. She felt her hair flutter as the air was disturbed around her with their passing, still not quite used to the ability to go unseen from such a small distance. Did she not exist on the same level that they did anymore? Or was it just a mere trick of shadow...

Pulling the leather of her glove snugly around her fingers, she moved on; noiseless feet that barely seemed to touch the ground.

The corridor she followed began to spiral down in a long, sweeping hallway, gradually sinking deeper within the frozen earth. Air grew colder, and torches became more prevalent along the walls, increasing Vaedra's nervousness.

Screams could be heard, echoing up and around the coiled stone, becoming distorted in their travel to sound unearthly. Who were they? People being tortured for information? Experiments? Her skin crawled at the sound of screeching metal and the smell of seared flesh behind one metal threshold, knowing there was nothing she could do to help them either way.

As the rogue continued, she pressed her ear to the next door. She heard the sounds of masculine grunting mixed with low murmuring, and had a fairly good idea of what was transpiring. She knew that she should just continue on, but felt the inexplicable desire to open the door all the same.

What drove the Cult of the Damned to serve the Lich King willingly? Surely there were plenty of reasons that could explain their behavior: fear of death was a common unifying force amongst many mortals, or maybe it was what they believed to be the acceptance of an unavoidable fate, or truly religious fervor? She didn't know. Maybe by understanding them, that were like her in the respect that they had made that life-altering choice of yielding to the Lich King's will, she could better understand herself.

Without a sound, she opened the door but a crack and looked inside.

A High Priest, dressed in the finer robes to signify his position, stood at the far end of the room of a small library. His clothing was parted in the front and a female acolyte was on her knees before him, pleasuring him with her mouth. One of his gnarled, deformed hands steadied himself on a close table where his wicked-looking skull mask rest, the other threaded through her brown tresses as he spoke to her.

"You must..." he gasped, tightening his fingers in her hair. "You must not let your mortal needs control you." His sickly yellow eyes slid shut, rotted teeth revealed by curled lips in a look of rapturous pain.

"If you... wish to be Scourge truly, you must..." His free hand gripped the table's edge forcefully. "... free yourself from that which... sets us apart!"

The woman stopped a moment and looked up at him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "But how do I do that! I just can't seem-"

He silenced her with a resounding slap. "Have you heard nothing I've said?!" The High Priest roared at her, grabbing her head roughly, forcing her to take him back between her lips.

She whimpered at his harsh treatment, but he didn't seem to notice or care. "I serve the Master!" The man panted, guiding her to increase the pace. "That means... you must serve me."

"Learn the difference between... lust... and love." He stopped his preaching to emit a long groan. "The Master needs new armies, yes?" Cackling in between heavy gasps as though he'd said something extremely amusing.

Pressing a hand to her mouth as to still the growing nausea in her stomach, Vaedra closed the door and leaned against it heavily. She was nothing like them. No, she never was.

She had to believe that.

"Ohhh, fuck..." she whispered before vomiting against the wall, trying to suppress the noise of her heaving. Collecting herself quickly, and having nothing to use to clean up the mess, she fled down the hall to continue her search.

Moments later, the female acolyte departed the library, pulling the hood of her cloak up over her head she brushed past two Blackguards patrolling down the hallway. The High Priest emerged soon after; adjusting his mask he turned to see the guards examining the vomit dripping down the stone.

The High Priest frowned. "It seems my pupil does not have the necessary 'stamina' to serve the Cult of the Damned." With a curt nod, they all turned to head back up the ramp after her.

Vaedra let out a shuddering breath as she crept lower, the sound of voices growing louder as she neared a large archway.

"Now I would like you all to direct your attention to page 36, the third paragraph. It reads, 'Knowing the most direct path of corruption is the pinnacle of wisdom. A simple weakening of the heart, dismemberment of vital organs, or direct disease will work for most. However, the conquer of most is not the decree of the Master, but the conquer of all. It is foolish to spend excessive resources in warping the mind of a simple peasant where common plague will suffice, but it is equally unwise to try the same common plague against the seasoned and hearty. Regimented study of any formidability will reveal usable weaknesses.' All right, now what does that mean to you? What was Kel'thuzad trying to convey?"

The rogue peeked around the corner at the rows of acolytes sitting on benches, pouring over their twisted texts. The room was large, ornate with tapestries, weapons, shelves filled with jars and materials. Carved sconces in the shape of skulls flanked two more archways on either side that led into adjoining chambers. At the head of all the students was the man she'd heard speaking, orating from a podium in front of a long, red curtain that draped from floor to ceiling. Behind him were rows of books and items secured in wooden and glass cases.

The Cultist cast a disapproving stare around the room when no one offered up an answer to his question. "Well? Did none of you think it worthwhile to read The Decree of the Scourge before coming in today? I specifically told you that we would be studying the different effects of the plague in varying degrees of severity-"

One timid student in the front raised his hand halfway. Everyone turned to look at him, and Vaedra used the opportunity to begin edging around the perimeter of the room, examining the spines of books and the contents of the shelved components.

"Yes! You there. Please enlighten the rest of us who are so obviously deficient when it comes to higher brain functions."

The man nodded. "Well, I take it to mean that the Scourge's priority while carrying out the Master's will to the best of our ability is efficiency. Our resources should never be wasted because we take them as we conquer, therefore tests should be performed beforehand to determine the amount of plague needed for different subjects so that neither too much nor too little is used..."

Vaedra snaked her way around the chamber, wondering how far she really dare go with the use of her powers; would they be oblivious if she stood mere inches from their face? Scanning the jars on the next shelf she saw an array of strange objects, some innocuous, others disturbing. A single disembodied eye floating in a vat of liquid seemed to stare back at her.

"Correct! Yes, very good. Did everyone hear that now? Many subjects will react differently to the effects of undeath, the simple-minded masses are usually more predictable than a battle-hardened paladin or a grizzled mercenary for example. Which is why we must make careful notes and experiments to determine the level of corruption necessary. Now you also brought up another good point on the usage of resources! This is not on the schedule for today but I do believe it ties in with our study and would like to take a moment to read a passage from Chapter 3..."

Heavy footfalls reverberated down the hall followed by frenzied squealing. "No! No! I'm worthy! Stop please!"

Vaedra's breath caught as she slipped into the adjoining room's doorway, shrouded in the shadow as the High Priest from earlier swept into the room with both his hands raised.

The class orator crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What is the meaning of this interruption? We are already behind and I have a schedule to keep-"

"Hold a moment. I do not mean to alarm you, but we have a non-believer among us!" The High Priest said with a flourish.

Quiet whispers began flitting around the room and Vaedra's heart started to pound.

"Indeed!" He continued. "I had heard, instructor, that you were studying the severity of the plague and thought we might use this opportunity for a dual lesson. Show our young acolytes here the consequences for not accepting the will of the Master, bringing together both the spiritual doctrines of the Cult of the Damned and the necessary science to make it all possible!" Waving behind him, two Blackguards came into the room each holding one arm of the young woman Vaedra had seen earlier.

Her eyes were wide with fright, hair tousled, blood dripping down her face from a split lip. She flailed in their grasp desperately once she saw where she was. "No!! I am worthy! Let me show you! I'll do whatever you want!" Her gaze was fixed on the High Priest as she screamed.

The instructor's normally sour expression brightened considerably at the sight of a new test subject. "Oh yes, this is most fantastic!" He clapped his hands together once. "Come class! We have a special treat for you today."

The students stood and allowed themselves to be ushered through the archway opposite of where Vaedra was hiding. Half-dragging, half-carrying the frantic woman, her panicked cries continued for a long while.

Vaedra let out the breath she'd been holding, returning to the class' chamber to examine the seemingly more valuable items in the front of the room. Trinkets and weapons of all types were on display like it was some kind of morbid museum, positioned lovingly on beautiful cloth and pillows.

Scanning the objects, the rogue's gaze came to rest on a dagger with a stain of glistening red remaining on the blade, still wet, never drying. The edge itself was asymmetrical and curved, appearing to have been a decorative item only, but embedded in the hilt with carved precision was the distinctive letter 'A'.

Cracking a knuckle, she brought a single gloved hand up close to the lock, but quickly withdrew when she felt the tingle of magic emanating from the glass box. Either the weapon was an extremely powerful item or the case was trapped. Or both.

She glanced over her shoulder, listening to the sounds of the High Priest beginning a sermon on the lessons of individualism, and how it cannot exist amongst the Scourge, his exuberant words mingling with the woman's dying screams.

Wiping a molecule of sweat from her brow, Vaedra concentrated, extending but a portion of shadow energy into her hands, an essence of anti-magic that drew in all light and magic around it as she swiftly unlocked the case.

Whatever spell had been guarding the dagger was diffused, absorbed into the rogue's hand in a quick burst of blackened mist. Reaching inside, her fingers tentatively came to grip the blade's hilt, and her entire arm felt a brief surge of energy. She brought a finger up to the dagger's edge, blood coming away to stain the leather of her glove.

Closing the lid, and scanning the chamber once more, she flew back up the ramp. Winding around the long, curved hallway, weightless feet drifted past the Cultist guards oblivious to her presence until after forever she arrived back at the fortress entrance.

Researchers continued to toil, either unaware or indifferent of all that was transpiring in the floors below. Perhaps none of it was all that unusual to them.

One Cultist scientist sat at a table with several others, scribbling furiously on some parchment when a nearby flask filled with a filthy-looking ichor suddenly splashed over him and his notes.

"Damn it!" He yelled, standing up and trying fruitlessly to fling the liquid off his hands and clothes.

Another man snickered at him, receiving a glare. The researcher grumbled, reaching for a rag to dab daintily at his papers. He suddenly lurched, back twitching violently as a splattering of blood began to drip from an invisible wound to the floor.

As the Cultist fell semi-lifeless to the ground, a woman materialized on the table with two swords drawn, one of which shining with red.

Chairs scraped violently in the researcher's hurry to rise and fight... or flee, but in the time it took them to perform that simple action another was decapitated where he sat.

The first that managed to rise began casting a spell immediately, until he received a face full of blue potion. He screeched, desperately trying to wipe it from his ruined eyes. A quarterstaff came swinging in to swipe at Vaedra's legs which she deftly jumped away from, glasses and books flying from the table in a whirlwind.

A dagger went flipping out from the rogue's hand to strike a woman in her shoulder, making the Cultist cry out but not stop her spellcasting. Shadow magic ripped through Vaedra's core; she winced, shaking it off to leap off the table towards another that was reaching for his own blade.

The man managed to parry the rogue's first strike, much to his credit, a wide swing meant to finish him quickly, but was helpless as he was kicked in the face and a deep gouge from her offhand sword was left in his abdomen.

Casting again, the female scientist unleashed a burst of magic into Vaedra's side, sending her careening into a saronite pillar. Her skull cracked against the metal, vision darkening slightly as she crumpled. From the corner of her eye she could see that another of the Cultist's was fleeing, making for the front of Aldur'thar.

Rising shakily to her feet, she knew she couldn't catch him, and instead closed her eyes and stepped through the shadows, appearing directly in front of the running man. His mouth opened wide, and a hand came up in front of him which was neatly sliced off at the wrist.

"Gahh! No!" He pleaded, falling to his knees and holding onto the bleeding flesh. She plunged her sword into his heart.

The female Cultist had ceased her casting and was furiously trying to salvage what she could of their research, glancing up in fear to see the rogue stalking towards her.

Something cracked sharply into Vaedra's back and she let out an involuntary cry, turning to see the man with a staff winding up for another blow after he had darted out from behind a pillar. Her sword came up to block but she was off balance and lost her footing, twisting awkwardly on her ankle she fell and lost her right weapon. The man brought his staff up over his shoulder for a powerful strike when he suddenly whimpered, grabbing hold of his groin where he had been kicked. Vaedra tackled him around his waist and ran him into the floor. Grabbing a hold of his hair she rammed his skull into the hard stone repeatedly until he stopped moving.

The woman had grabbed what she could and was running towards the deeper tunnels when the rogue looked up after her. Taking hold of the closest available missile, a wooden chair went flying through the air and into the female Cultist's back. The bundle of scrolls and books in her arms scattered as she scrambled to gain her footing, but Vaedra was already there waiting for her.

As the last of the papers from the scuffle floated gently to the floor, the rogue circled the room and swiftly finished off the researchers that were still squirming and ended the suffering of the man who had been blinded by the blue concoction and was crawling around blindly looking for escape.

Breathing hard, Vaedra brought a hand to her hair where she had struck the pillar to see that she was bleeding. Already sore and tired, she looked around the chamber disgustedly.

_Well, that was certainly messy. _She reprimanded herself, frowning.

Gathering the rest of the Alumeth's components from the various chests around the room, Vaedra steeled herself, knowing she had to do this now before more Cultists came or the dagger was discovered missing.

Placing the items before the large crystal, the magic of the objects began to work, and the weapon that Alumeth had used to sacrifice himself initially coaxed forth his soul fully, drawing it from the crystal completely.

Vaedra hid herself, becoming transparent and silent, watching as his form began to manifest. A great yell escaped him as Alumeth's corporeal body came into existence yet again, a large ethereal man dressed in fine robes.

"No! Who has awakened me again! Too early!" His fists curled around his great staff, scanning the room.

A rumbling laugh escaped him.

"So it is _you _again, little human. Why am I not surprised? But what is this?!" He knelt before the remains next to the crystal.

"Ahahah, so you have the dagger? You have only hastened your own demise, fool! Now witness me at my full strength!"

Throwing his head back in a soundless scream, Vaedra's heart was suddenly filled with unimaginable dread. The urge to flee was overwhelming, and her feet were carrying her away before she knew what she was doing. Her cloak fell away during the few seconds of confusion, and Alumeth cackled wickedly.

"Ahhh, there you are!"

He swung his gigantic staff at the rogue, who was just regaining her bearings. She flung herself to the side just a moment too late and caught the edge of the weapon in her shoulder. Rolling to absorb the shock, she darted behind a pillar and pressed her back to it, breathing hard as she weighed her options.

"So you wish to play, little thief? Haha! You have no idea who you are toying with. Perhaps I shall play with _you _instead..."

Vaedra's chest grew very tight, and she felt _something _slip into her head, some magic, that was eerily familiar but not quite the same. Her eyes grew dark and as she looked around franticly she had the feeling that she was only making things worse.

"I've found you." Alumeth whispered in her ear.

The pillar she was leaning against shook violently as it was struck; the entire fortress seemed to shudder. Going around behind the column she leapt closer to Alumeth, digging her swords into his side.

He howled in agony, drawing his staff around to swat the rogue away who went crashing into the stone wall. His hands glowed black and he whispered lowly an incantation of pain.

The magic stung, her very flesh seemed to burn, and she was barely able to roll to the side as the head of Alumeth's weapon bashed the very place she had been laying, chunks of stone and rubble falling away.

_This isn't going very well... _Vaedra thought hurriedly as she ran, hearing the beginnings of another spell directed her way. Thinking fast, Alumeth's spell suddenly fizzled when he lost his target who had seemingly just disappeared.

Behind him, the rogue kicked off the wall to gain enough momentum to climb onto the phantasmal Cultist's back, dropping one weapon and putting all of her weight into shoving one sword between his shoulder blades.

Alumeth roared, flailing as she stabbed at him. Reaching over his shoulder he grasped the woman by the neck and tore her off, flinging her away to go skittering across the floor. And now she was missing both her swords.

Outside near the ramparts of Aldur'thar, the Blackguards were having their own problems defending against a nearly unstoppable force. Lacking any kind of real military organization, they all scattered as the wave of destruction drew nearer.

Two Cultists took off at a dead run towards the fortress entrance.

"We have to protect the High Priest! We need to summon Alumeth!"

The giant, ethereal Cultist let out a tortured groan as he dug the sword from his own back; wielding it in one hand and his staff in the other as he advanced on the unarmed rogue.

Vaedra rose and drew the dagger from her boot in one smooth motion, feeling ridiculous as she dove to the side to avoid the enormous weapon she would have no chance of blocking with her tiny one.

Alumeth growled, no longer amused with their game of chase. "Argh! You fight well enough for a human, but you will eventually grow tired, where I will remain just as powerful! I am above your pitiful mortal necessities!"

Hiding behind another runed pillar, Vaedra stuck her head out to toss some of her throwing daggers towards the Cultist which he promptly brushed aside, retaliating instantly with another spell of dark energy.

The rogue's hand sizzled beneath her glove, and she cried out as she clutched it to her body and rested her head against the column, quickly running out of ideas.

Two Blackguards came running into the crystal's chamber, wide-eyed when they saw Alumeth the Ascended already standing there with his robes in tatters. and a woman in black leather crouched off to the side.

"What's going on-" one of them began to snarl before he grunted and blood began to bubble past his lips and he and his partner both fell dead from simultaneous stab wounds.

Thassarian extracted his blades and gave one of them a good kick in the ribs for good measure as he stalked into the room and took a quick survey.

"No!" Vaedra whispered to herself incredulously, trying to will herself to become a mere shadow to escape the vengeful wrath of the death knight once again. She scrambled away, right into the waiting arms of Alumeth who was glaring at her angrily.

Things were going bad enough without having Thassarian show up and as it was right then it appeared a better option to just escape and live to fight another day, but the Cultist seemed to have other ideas.

The head of his staff came whirling around to crack the rogue in the jaw, snapping her head to the side. Reaching out blindly, she grabbed hold of the weapon as it swung. He shook it violently to dislodge the woman, but while she was hanging there loosely with one hand she brought her dagger down into Alumeth's wrist.

He wailed in outrage, dropping both the weapon and the rogue. Curling his hand into a fist, he began chanting, the air around him stirring at the severity of the spell.

Vaedra held up her palm to hopefully shield her with anti-magic as the spell was unleashed, but never got the chance.

Before the cast was completed, Alumeth was blasted in the face with cold, his mind numbing instantly as the magic was lost.

"NO!" He cried, maddeningly trying to heal himself.

"Oh no you don't..." Thassarian responded with another spell of his own as invisible hands choked the words from Alumeth's throat.

The Cultist's face twitched, and he brought his fist smashing into the death knight's stomach.

If Thassarian felt anything other than mild discomfort at the blow, he didn't show it. With a minor grimace and small grunt, the death knight began to unload. Both blades whirling, waves of frost and disease emanating from his hands to strike Alumeth who was trying to parry with Vaedra's solitary weapon.

Seeing this, the rogue wasn't sure what to do. Use the opportunity to flee while they were both distracted? Thassarian _did _seem to be winning, but she really didn't want to leave without her swords...

Sighing, and rising from the floor, she crept to where she had dropped her other blade previously. Scooping it up, she began to sprint towards the occupied Cultist, jumping onto his back again except this time he was too busy to be able to throw her off.

Desperate stabs connected into Alumeth's neck and chest again and again, slowing his movements as Thassarian's frost and Vaedra's attacks began to take their toll.

"Not yet..." he whispered unceremoniously, all strength suddenly sapped. Collapsing in a heap, the unnatural body began to dissipate, airy vapors hissing off the corporeal self as his essence was lifted away to wherever it is that souls might go.

The blood on the dagger that rested on Alumeth's robes, previously staining them with its un-drying crimson, became crusty and brown.

Trying to avoid eye contact but knowing Thassarian was already staring at her, Vaedra bent to collect her other sword.

A hand touched her shoulder and her eyes slid shut. "I'd really prefer to not have to kill you." Brushing the large palm away she turned to leave.

"Wait." He said simply, almost emotionless sounding when it was spoken in the two-tone voice of a death knight. But something in it made her stop, and look behind her where he was standing easily.

"I never gave you the chance to speak before... I was acting foolishly, I let my anger control me. But now I know, I know everything."

Vaedra bit her lip and blinked away tears. He couldn't really know _everything..._ but instead of saying that she asked stoically, "If you already know everything then what point is there in listening to me now?"

Thassarian shook his head though she did not see it. "There isn't. Instead I would like you to make a leap of faith... and listen to what I have to say now."

She looked back; his marked face and dark eyes appeared genuine, though every learned behavior within her was shouting that she should run, that she was better off alone and dismissing the help of any who would offer it. She took a tiny step away.

"I can't..." she said weakly.

He strode forward, looking at her bruised face intently. Holding out his armored glove to her in a warm gesture, Thassarian swallowed his manly pride for a moment. "Please?"

Wetting her lips, and after a long moment of quiet, Vaedra nodded almost imperceptibly.

Though she didn't take his offered hand.

* * *

_Author's Note: Woohoo, long chapter. Hope you all liked it =)_


	8. Chapter 7

_My poor, dear, patient readers... I apologize profusely for my absence and lack of updates. Unfortunately, real life happened and will continue to happen for an un-designated amount of time so I am not certain when I will be able to post again. Thank you so much to those that dropped reviews and messages in concern, they didn't go unnoticed and I'm going to continue to try to pump out chapters despite my current situation. Hang in there with me, I haven't forgotten about the story or all of you =)_

Chapter 7

"So, Alumeth..." Thassarian began somewhat awkwardly though sporting a boyish grin. "Impressive."

Vaedra looked over at him with a raised eyebrow before shrugging nonchalantly.

His smile slowly faded as they walked in silence above the entrance to Aldur'thar, very close to the place of their earlier unusual meeting.

Their view of Icecrown was a sobering one, barely outlined ramparts visual through the mist, the march of undead across its borders, the threat of the Citadel looming just beyond, just out of reach. And Naxxaramas; the new line of defense of the Death Gate. The Lich King's end goal was always a certain thing, it was the means in which he went about getting there that could often be misleading, and that was something that worried the death knight greatly.

Glancing at his companion from the corner of his eye, Thassarian remained at a loss as to where to begin. His reasons for wanting to come find Vaedra again after learning the truth weren't exactly concrete. He wanted to set things right, true... but there was something more, and an eloquence of speech was never a talent he had been quite able to master.

Half-hoping that the rogue would say something, demanding answers or having questions of her own, he finally took a deep breath to speak when she remained passive and unnaturally quiet.

"Our Highlord, Mograine, is a fantastic leader." He began seemingly off-topic, and Vaedra couldn't help but wonder where he was going with it.

"He is unrivaled in his ability to..." Thassarian struggled to find the right word. "... _see _things. A gift of Sight, an ability to perceive more than what is just around you, a kind of sense or limited foresight. It is not known exactly how it works or how it came about, but we believe it has something to do with our deaths and the subsequent burst of power we obtain from being reborn as death knights. It is something that all of us have to some degree or another... except me."

The rogue sneaked a quick look at the man next to her, but his expression was flat.

"The Highlord was able to... enlighten me to your situation, something that seems so damn obvious now that it's right in front of me." He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.

There was an awkward pause and it seemed that statement was the closest thing to an apology that Vaedra was going to get. Not that he necessarily needed to make one; the choice had been her own.

"Even while in the Lich King's service and in the time that followed, I felt empathy, something that the other death knights seem to have lost sight of. The need to rejoin the Alliance and help right the wrongs of the Lich King and even myself was great, though not altogether appreciated..." Another sigh from the man.

"Everyone seems to have their own reasons for wanting to see the Lich King's demise, and except for maybe the most holy of paladins those reasons are less than pure. Is there revenge in my heart? Like most death knights I would be surprised if there was not, but Mograine's and the others total disregard for anything but that hatred disturbs me. So I pledged myself to the Alliance once again and where does that lead? Endless squabbling and ceaseless feuds with the Horde. It seems no one wishes to do what is really necessary to battle this threat. Tirion wastes his time trying to unite those that will refuse to see reason or ever be able to set aside their petty prejudices. The Alliance's grand flag ship, the Skybreaker, a potentially lethal weapon against the Lich King's forces is squandered in pointless battle, and I refuse to be a part of it any longer."

Gauntleted hand raked through matted hair severely, and Vaedra waited patiently for the crux of the death knight's ranting to emerge.

Thassarian stopped walking a moment and the rogue's feet halted nearly instantly as well as though she had sensed it before he had. Their eyes met: scrutinizing, wary of course, but also with a mutual understanding, like the symbiotic relationship between two creatures.

"You are not unlike us," The death knight pointed out. "You were forced to serve the Lich King against your own will."

_Not exactly true... _Vaedra mused to herself, though she said nothing.

"You know what it's like," he continued, "the feelings of helplessness, no ability to control your own actions and working against all that which you hold dear. And even worse for you," pausing with a grimace, "you were aware of it all."

The rogue itched to tear her gaze away from his guiltily, but she held fast.

"The Chosen death knights were blissfully ignorant at first, and it was only later when we broke free that we had time to reflect upon what we had done. But I think now that it's your first-hand experience that will be the key to defeating him at last. Your recent activities are proof of that..." he managed a small smile.

There was a long pause in which nothing was said, and Thassarian waited calmly for her response, taken aback when her stare suddenly turned icy.

"I have no desire to join the Knights of the Ebon Blade, their irrational behavior has been untrustworthy in the past and is too closely knit with the Cult of the Damned for my liking. Not only that but they work closely with the Argent Crusade who are none too apt to forgive my recent betrayals as swiftly as you have and not to mention the Stormwind Assassins--"

"That was never my intention." The death knight interjected, a bit of his new-found calm slipping away. "As I said, I have grown tired of the Ebon Blade's vengeance and unending thirst for pain and I'll have nothing more to do with the Alliance so long as they continue this foolhardy course. No, I was thinking something a bit more... covert."

Vaedra looked at him incredulously.

"You mean, just you and I?"

He nodded with raised eyebrows, as though it had been obvious from the beginning.

"And what do you think to accomplish like that?" A flicker of anger starting to burn.

Thassarian cleared his throat. "Taking the three lines of defense in Icecrown is paramount to the Lich King's demise, and especially now that the Death Gate is guarded with Naxxaramas itself, a full-front assault is not the way that's going to happen." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "You and I can strike at the heart of the gates together, disabling his lieutenants and blocking information from the inside. We'll sever all ties from Icecrown Citadel and--"

"Do you even know what you're saying?" Vaedra blurted. "Have you not seen how he carelessly discards minions without a thought? Without provocation or reason he sucks them dry or has them replaced or annihilates an entire section of his army at his whim." She looked at him pointedly, obviously referring to the still-fresh betrayal at Acherus. "Disabling his puppets will get you _nowhere_."

Vaedra thought she had struck a nerve until a knowing grin crossed his face. "Hasn't that been what you've been doing?"

She snickered in response, a humorless sound before she shrugged helplessly. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing." He shook his head. "The destruction of Alumeth is more than anyone else has been able to achieve recently save the taking of Scourgeholme, which I hear you played an integral part in also... We can set events in motion, make contributions to this ongoing battle for when the rest of the players finally get their heads out of their asses."

Thassarian put a reassuring hand on the rogue's shoulder before composing himself and asking confidently, "What say you?"

With but a minor roll of her shoulders, Vaedra sloughed the massive paw away. "No."

The death knight's brow knit together, temper starting to sizzle. "No? What do you mean 'no'?

"I mean," she enunciated deliberately, "that even if you are correct about everything and a difference can indeed be made... I work alone."

Fully intending that to be the end of the conversation, Vaedra began to stride away, leaving a dumbfounded Thassarian behind her.

Gathering his voice and allowing some of the bubbling annoyance rising within him to slip in, he called after the retreating rogue. "And what will you do now? Continue searching in loneliness for that which eludes you? Are you going to let Tayvan's betrayal taint everything you see for the rest of your life?"

Vaedra stopped in her tracks, as though she'd been suddenly splashed with cold water. Turning, she fixed the death knight in her glittering, violet stare.

"What do you even know of it?" She demanded angrily, stalking back towards him.

He had gotten her attention at least, but was displeased that he had to sink so low; the death knight's expression was grim.

"Enough," he countered smoothly. "Enough to know that what happened to you was terrible, and that it shaped you into you who you are now. Betrayal is a difficult thing to bear, but..." he lifted a single brow, "...woman, you need to get over it."

Vaedra nearly sputtered. "If this is the way you set out to recruit my help, death knight, your Highlord Mograine could probably have told you how it would end without his use of _Sight._"

Eyes like daggers and fingers curling into fists at her side it appeared that the two might come to blows yet again. Vaedra seethed as she contemplated slugging the jerk in his arrogant face.

_What does he even know? How can he know what it's like? The emptiness, the pain, the betrayal..._

And no sooner than the thoughts had passed through her head did she realize that he _did _know. He had suffered no less than she had, and the idea was so sobering that for the first time in weeks she felt like weeping.

Her mind drifted to the Lich King, the monster with the icy prison... or the man trapped within a monster? She'd never know... should she weep for him? Or herself? Her heart ached with loss: for Arthas, Mathias, Tayvan... all those that had touched her some way. Did Thassarian also wander the world in need of purpose? His dream to once again serve the Alliance and aid in the destruction of a common enemy had been shattered by the short-sightedness of men... perhaps he needed this as much as she did to find whatever it was that could bring them peace.

The rigidity of her knuckles slowly relaxed, and Vaedra looked at the death knight with new-found wonder. His deep-set eyes that lacked the blue glow of his brethren were rimmed in pain, surrounded by the dark, tainted markings of the Scourge that he still bore. His stance was tense, ready to react in an instant, but he seemed to sense the change in her as well and fell back securely onto his feet.

She wouldn't cry, not here, not in front of him... but it felt as though a doorway had been opened. Perhaps now after all that had happened, she could permit to let someone share in her misery. They didn't need to be the best of friends, hell she didn't even need to like the man... but they had something to relate to, and she'd seen his fighting prowess in combat already...

"I had thought..." Vaedra's eyes slid shut as she stood there looking defeated. "...that time would have healed all my wounds. But it has only made me more aware of the ones that you can't see, and now I have all the time in the world."

Thassarian didn't quite understand the rogue's meaning, but he nodded softly.

Her words seemed to hang in the wind as she warred with herself. Why had she sought out the Lich King's minions after her escape? She knew it was because she couldn't remain idle, but sabotaging the Cultists was her way of contributing to the war without being directly involved with any one faction, and where it would be extremely unlikely of encountering... _him_. So here, now, with this death knight fighting with himself to remain patient and calm as he waited for her answer, she was forced to make the decision to abandon all of that, the illusion that she could persist as a shadow forever.

It was terrifying.

The words would barely form on her lips; she forced them out. "We must act... you are correct. There's scant few who are making useful progress in Icecrown despite what they might believe. Arthas is only giving them what they want, and they drink it up like livestock. The gates are definitely imperative, and require our attention."

A faint smile touched the man's lips and he nodded again. He truly believed her words, but Vaedra who had been so very close to the Lich King's side and had seen the lengths to which he would go wasn't so certain.

"Come!" Thassarian barked suddenly. "There is much planning to do. Mord'rethar is our first destination, and getting around that damned citadel is going to take... a special kind of maneuvering. We should get back and begin--"

"To where?" Vaedra asked abruptly, feeling panicked.

"I can see to it that your presence is permitted at the Shadow Vault-"

The rogue shook her head fervently before he had even finished. She knew Mathias would be there and wasn't quite ready to face him, her heart clenching painfully at the mere thought.

"Well then, what do you suggest?" The death knight continued irritably, his posture one of impatience.

Vaedra paused a moment, breathing and hoping that she was making the right choice in trusting this man.

"I have a place."

-

With a smile neatly hidden beneath an immaculate blue scarf, Baron Rivendare gazed around the central throne room of Naxxaramas before slowly lowering himself into the large chair. He reclined slightly, relaxing and reveling in his new position.

One would observe the zeal in which the Baron had taken his recent responsibilities to be almost excessive the way he patrolled the citadel in a nearly constant fashion, ensuring that everything was in it's place, that production and experiments and training progressed without incident.

But no one could argue with his methods for he was a gifted strategist, every move had a purpose, a predetermined intention; no effort was squandered. He walked the halls with fluid grace, altering routines and correcting errors as he moved, languidly stroking the colossal figure of Sapphiron in reassurance as he made his way to the heart of Naxxaramas to finally take his seat.

And so he had, much to the dismay and vexation of many of the place's tenants who felt shirked at both their Master's choice and his obvious glee.

His mind a flurry with activity, swirling with plans and ideas and schemes, Rivendare settled back into his chair crossing one leg over the other when a sultry voice came from the doorway.

"Don't get too comfortable now."

Managing to keep the distaste out of his tone and replying as civilly as he could muster, the Baron extended one hand at the wrist and with a minor incline of his head greeted, "Lady."

The swaggering form of Lady Blameux entered, her glowing eyes flickering momentarily to the seated figure and noting that he hadn't stirred even a hair to rise.

Approaching slowly she tried to make her words sound conversational. "I see that you have engraved yourself into your new position rather nicely..." she added with a wry smirk, "...and quickly."

Rivendare's piercing gaze never deviated from her lithe, armored figure. There was no part of him that trusted her and they both knew it. "I would hope, Lady, that all of the Master's servants would approach a new task set before them with equal fervor." His voice was rough but the words were smooth.

Blameux laughed haughtily, throwing her head back a bit, the ornamental and plush material atop her helm flowing out behind her before she cut the noise off abruptly and looked at him dangerously.

"Of course."

Sauntering over to the Baron's side where his mount, Deathcharger, stood peacefully next to the throne, she began to gently run her hands over the skeletal steeds fleshless skull. The horse shifted and stirred uncomfortably, and Rivendare struggled to maintain his composure.

"I only mention it because..." the Lady continued as though there hadn't been a pause, "Kel'thuzad is one of the Master's most trusted advisors. Surely you don't think that your time here is anything more than temporary?" She sounded deceptively sweet as she continued her ministrations, glancing over to make sure that he was still paying attention.

She needn't have feared that for the Baron's dark stare was fixed, attempting to disguise his displeasure at both having the bitch upsetting his mount and wasting his precious time. He took a moment to reply, thinking carefully on what he wanted to disclose. Blameux could be predictable but her ambition and deceit knew no bounds.

Rivendare smirked smugly, "Kel'thuzad grows careless. He believes that the duration of his service and simpering grovels when the Master is displeased allow him certain liberties. But I saw the Master's disapproval, and I know that the lich is wrong. His overly forceful aspirations and constant disobedience will be his undoing, and I believe the Master is doing exactly that, sending the lich on one last errand before he is finally disposed of." He allowed the grin to linger on for a long moment before quickly setting his jaw in a harsh line.

Blameux nodded reflectively. "If that is indeed the case..." she reached up and removed her blue helm allowing the torrent of coiled hair to come tumbling down across her back to reach her rear, a river of black with white streaks. Looking over her shoulder to flash him a dazzling smile she moved to stand in front of the throne, kneeling down between Rivendare's legs. "...then I would like to offer my... services to Naxxaramas' new master."

She looked up at him with what was supposed to be a seductive look, placing smooth, pale hands on either thigh.

The Baron allowed a brief flicker of interest to touch his eyes before he leaned forward and took one of her hands in his armored one and brought it to the cloth of where his lips were concealed.

"My Lady..." he whispered lowly, causing her smile to widen before he suddenly seized her wrist and dragged her forward to meet his abhorrent stare head on.

"Now you listen to me, _Lady_," he spat the title out losing all trace of his ever-present decorum, eyes flashing, "If you think for even one moment that I'm going to let anyone, especially a conniving, whorish little snake such as yourself stand in my way, than you are sorely mistaken. Naxxaramas has been charged to ME, and me alone. The Master saw fit for this citadel to be under my capable command, and I shall see to it that his every whim is seen to."

Blameux hissed at him before rising to yank her arm away and sneering. "You think you're anything special? You've been rotting away in Stratholme for years while Thane and I and the others have served loyally here. You are _nothing_, an expendable pawn and nothing more!"

Rivendare settled back into his chair, looking comfortable and self-important. "We shall see, Lady."

Taking a minute to shoot him one more nasty look, the female death knight gathered her helm and stormed from the circular chamber.

"We shall see."


End file.
